A Dangerous Vintage
by Jennifer Cannon
Summary: When Auggie finds himself in hot water with smugglers in Frankfort, he goes to Lee and Amanda for help.
1. Chapter 1

***Special thanks goes to Ermintrude for being such a wonderful beta and for her time and patience with this-this story has been quite a while in coming. I hope you enjoy ? ***

 **Das Speisekammer Restaurant**

 **Tuesday, July 2, 2013**

 **2:00 PM**

"A 3.8% percent profit margin this quarter—that's excellent." Larry Ellison leaned back in his office chair with a sigh of satisfaction as he pressed the button to print out the quarterly report.

"Three point eight," Auggie repeated. "That's up from 3.3 percent last quarter, isn't it?"

Larry nodded. "That it is—and for a new restaurant, it's pretty good. I gotta say, pairing up with you was one of the best things I ever did."

Auggie grinned. "Well I always do aim to please."

"It's appreciated," Larry replied. "Coming up with the idea of a German–American fusion cuisine—finding the right suppliers—even helping to push the permits through the DIHK. Though I swear I don't know how you did that so quickly. Every businessman I know hates dealing with them."

"Just some basic finesse, that's all." Auggie said hurriedly. "And knowing the right people to talk to." Along with the right palms to grease, he thought—though Ellison didn't need to know all of the details. You had to give a little to get a little—that was as true here as it had been back in DC.

"Well you came along at just the right time. I was about to give up and go back to North Carolina, which was something I really didn't want to do."

"I hear you there." Home was not a place he wanted to go back to either—at least not with Lee Stetson waiting to greet him. The mere thought of it was enough to put a knot in his stomach. "How's that new waitress I hired working out, by the way—Birgit? Better than Elise, I hope."

"Much better," Larry replied. "She trained last night and I might let her be on her own tonight—we'll see how it works out. She starts her shift at five and that's when the dinner crowd comes in."

"Yeah," Auggie replied. "I'll have to leave early though—I have that meeting with a potential wine supplier at six."

"Rhinehassen Wholesalers, right?" Larry asked. Auggie nodded. "Aren't they a pretty new outfit?"

"Pretty new," Auggie agreed. "Still, I've been hearing good things about them—I think we might want to give them a chance."

"I'm not so sure." Larry's expression was doubtful. "Personally I've been pretty satisfied with Voekel so far."

"So have I," Auggie replied. "And I have to admit, they do provide good quality stuff. But you know they've raised prices twice already—the Riesling, the Shiraz—the Merlot. If everything keeps going up we might have to raise prices."

"You know they supply most of the restaurants in Frankfurt."

"And because they have a monopoly they think they can soak us," Auggie said. "Think about it—if we could find a way to break that we could increase our profits even more."

"Yeah, I see what you mean." Larry said. "But I don't want cheap tasting stuff. Can this new place offer better prices without skimping on quality?"

"That's what I'm hoping. The figures they gave me over the phone sounded promising. But of course I won't know anything until I actually meet with them."

"Are they actually based in Frankfurt?"

Auggie hesitated. "Not exactly. Their headquarters are located in Armsheim—forty-five minutes out of the city."

"Where did you come across them?"

"At the Frankfurt Wholesalers Symposium—they're one of the newest partners."

"Well it sounds pretty good," Larry told him. "Just don't sign anything until you're satisfied that they're on the up-and-up."

"Don't worry; I won't—I plan to check them out thoroughly."

"I know that you will." Larry nodded. "I want you to know that I do trust you, Auggie—and I trust your judgment—you're the best thing that could ever happen to this place."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Rhinehassen Wholesale Headquarters**

 **Armsheim, Germany**

 **5:00 PM**

"So what do you think, Mr. Swann?" Jon Schadel asked. He was a tall, slim man, with thinning grey hair and spectacles, wearing a dark blue suit and matching tie. His accent sounded a little different than most local Germans—maybe he was Austrian? Auggie wasn't sure. "Do you like what our company has to offer?"

"Well it does look quite impressive," Auggie said as he looked through the brochure he'd been given. "May I ask where you get your wines from?"

"Oh, we import them from many places," the man replied. "France, Spain, Italy, Portugal, Hungary, Bulgaria, Austria—even Switzerland. However, many of the wines we carry come from our very own winery."

"Your own winery? I didn't know anything about that."

"Oh yes—this region is quite famous for its wines, you know," Mr. Schadel replied. "Our winery is rather modest, but we do produce Riesling, Müller-Thurgau, and a very nice _Spätburgunder_ —what you'd call Pinot Noir. It is part of the reason we're able to offer such good prices."

"Can you tell me what percentage of your wines comes from your own vineyard?" Auggie asked.

"Well, I'd have to look at our books to get an exact number," Mr. Schadel said. "But I'd say it's between 30 and 40%. Just a ballpark figure, you understand."

"Of course. Still, for a new business that's impressive."

"Yes, I suppose it is." the man smiled thinly. "But keep in mind; we were a winery long before we got into the supply business."

"Really? How long has your winery been around?"

"About seven years now. We strive to use sustainable and organic farming methods, enabling us to supply grapes—and naturally wines—of the highest quality."

Sustainable, organic, Auggie thought—this was sounding better and better. Still, he had to be cautious. "Would it be possible for me to have a look at your winery?" He asked. "I'd like to do that before coming to a decision."

"I would expect nothing less from you." Mr. Schadel replied. "In fact, I have a driver and a car, all ready for us to do just that—my partner will be meeting us there. That is, if you have the time?"

"Oh yes, I have the time."

"Excellent." The man's smile widened. "Right this way."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **8:30 PM**

"I hope you enjoyed your tour." Mr. Schadel said as they walked out to the parking lot, where the car was waiting. His partner, Mr. Wissinger followed behind, a short, powerfully built man with thinning dark hair and deep-set brown eyes. Beyond a few perfunctory phrases the guy hadn't said a whole lot, Auggie thought—obviously it was Schadel who handled the public relations side. "I must say, we're very proud of our little vineyard here."

"Well I can certainly see why," Auggie said. "It's very nice—and the samples you provided were wonderful."

"Wonderful is just was we like to hear," Mr. Schadel said. "Hopefully this visit has helped you reach a decision?"

A decision. Auggie could feel their eyes on him, waiting for him to speak.

"I need to talk to my partner first," he said. "But if it goes well we'd be more than happy to give you our business."

"Pleased to hear it." Mr. Schadel leaned over to open the car door for him. "Unfortunately I have business here so I can't come back with you, but the driver will take you back."

"Thank you," Auggie said.

"No, thank you, Mr. Swann. Call me as soon as you know."

"I will do that." Auggie shook Mr. Schadel's hand. "Good meeting you both—I'll be in touch." He got in the car, finally alone with his thoughts—finally able to think about what had been in his head during his tour.

There was no way they could be producing that much wine. 15% was a possibility, but 38% to 40%? The vineyard he'd just seen, while nice, was probably about twelve acres. He thought back to the wine supplier he'd worked with in DC, who had frequently talked his ear off about stuff like crop yields and the amount of grapes it took to even produce one bottle. At the time Auggie had just thought it was useless information, but now—

It just wasn't possible. They couldn't be making that much.

So what were they doing, then? Buying from other wholesalers and slapping on their own label? That was a game that Auggie had seen played before.

Did they really want to do business with someone like that? Being caught would mean fines—possibly even a prison sentence. Not to mention the bad publicity the restaurant would receive. On the other hand, the prices were excellent, the quality was top-notch, they were just trying to make a profit. And the restaurant would increase its profits by at least another five percent, making them competitive with even long-run establishments. A lot of positives.

But if he got caught—did he really want to risk that again? The mere thought of what he'd escaped in Qatar was still enough to cause his chest to tighten. But would the risk really be his? Possibly, but it was more likely that the suppliers would be in trouble. They, on the other hand, could simply claim ignorance.

What should he do?

His cell phone rang—taking it out of his pocket he saw that it was Larry Ellison—he pressed the button to answer.

"Hey Auggie," Larry's voice crackled slightly over the phone. "How did it go?"

"I visited the supply headquarters," Auggie replied. "And then they drove me out to take a little tour of their winery—I'm heading back from there right now."

"They have their own vineyard? I didn't know that."

"Yeah—yeah they do." Auggie paused, trying to collect his thoughts—he had to make a decision, and make it now.

"So, what is it like?"

"Very nice. As a matter of fact, they produce over 30% of their own product—the samples were excellent—I was very impressed."

"Do you think we should switch suppliers, then?"

Now or never. "I think we should—I think it would be a good move."

"Sounds good to me," Larry replied. "Look, I gotta go, but I'll see you when you get back. And Auggie—thanks."

"You're welcome." Auggie hung up the phone, letting out his breath in a whoosh.

Had he made the right decision? Time would tell.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: The usual disclaimers apply. Special thanks to Ermintrude for being such a fantastic beta and for her time and patience with this. Hope you enjoy ?

New FF: A Dangerous Vintage-Part Two

 **Das Speisekammer Restaurant**

 **Thursday, October 4, 2013**

 **7:00 PM**

"That was a very good dinner." Food critic Peter Reichl leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped around his ample midsection. "The service was excellent as well."

"Thank you," Auggie said. "I'll certainly let the staff know."

"Please do."

"Auf wiedersehen, Herr Swann!" Frau Schmidt called out to him as she left. Auggie waved to her.

"One of your regular customers?" Reichl asked.

"One of them, yeah."

"From what I hear, you've built up a dedicated clientele in a short time. Quite remarkable for a relatively new establishment, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, we always strive to please the customer. I used to run quite a few establishments back in the United States—I do have some experience."

"So I've heard. You and Mr. Ellison have certainly made quite a splash with this one. I think what makes your restaurant stand out is this cuisine of yours. Tell me, how would you define 'German-American fusion'?"

"It's actually pretty self-explanatory," Auggie replied. "Basically it's a traditional German cuisine, but with an American twist."

"American twist?" The man's eyes peered at him through thick spectacles. "Such as pairing bratwurst with grilled zucchini and corn on the cob?"

"Exactly, Herr Reichel."

"I must be honest—normally I'm not fond of bratwurst without sauerkraut but the brown mustard on the side was quite good," Reichl told him. "The food also paired well with the wine—the red blend was nice."

"I'm pleased you enjoyed it."

"My only complaint was that perhaps it was not so open to the nose. Perhaps if it was allowed to breathe a little longer?"

"My apologies—I'll certainly let the waiters know that."

"No apologies necessary—despite the nose it was a very interesting little wine. I believe you said it was locally made, is that right?"

"Yes, that's right."

"What is the vineyard?"

The way the critic's eyes were fastened on him made Auggie feel like an insect under a microscope. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. "Rhinehassen Winery," he finally managed. "They're located in Armsheim."

"Armsheim?" A flicker of interest gleamed in the man's eyes. "How strange. I thought I knew all the vineyards that operated in that area—I've never heard of Rhinehassen."

"Actually they're fairly new to the supply business," Auggie explained. "Their wholesalers handle all of our wine orders now."

"Explains how you're able to keep your prices down." The critic stood. "I really must visit them when I have a chance—an excellent region for grapes. Thank you again for the meal, Mr. Swann."

"And thank you, Herr Reichel."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

"How did it go with Reichel?" Larry Ellison asked as Auggie entered the manager's office. He was bent over the laptop, going through the financial spreadsheets. "Well, I hope."

"I think so," Auggie replied, taking a seat next to the man. "He asked a lot of questions, but I think he was satisfied."

"Did he have any complaints?"

"Just one—that we need to allow the wine to breathe longer before decanting."

"Then we're lucky. From what I've heard, the man is a pompous SOB." Ellison grinned. "Still, it pays to have his endorsement, and a good write-up will help to bring in more customers."

"That's what I'm hoping."

"Thanks for handling that, by the way—I've never had patience for dealing with food critics. Always feels like they expect you to do a lot of bowing and scraping—somehow that's never been me."

"Hey, it's no problem." Auggie took a seat next to him. "By the way I put in an order for some Halloween decorations."

"Sounds good to me."

"Nothing tacky, of course—but since it's becoming more popular over here we might as well capitalize on it," Auggie said. "Going over the books?"

"Yeah." Ellison gestured towards the screen. "Most of the stuff from this quarter."

"What's the verdict?"

"Unbelievably it's better than last—our profit margins are up two-percent." Ellison said. "And I tell you, that wine has a lot to do with it—switching to Rhinehassen has really helped us to save money."

"Saving money without losing quality," Auggie reminded him.

"That's the best part." Ellison grinned. "Which reminds me—wasn't a new shipment due two days ago? I thought I saw it marked on the calendar."

"It was," Auggie said. "But apparently there was an accident with the original truck. They've promised to send a new truck early tomorrow morning—I'll be here to receive the delivery."

"Ahh, shipping problems." Ellison shook his head. "They happen everywhere, unfortunately. But believe me—if that's the worst problem we have with this company, we can consider ourselves lucky."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Friday, October 5, 2013**

 **6:30 AM**

"Please sign right here, Herr Swann." The deliveryman indicated the spot on the form. "And also check this box confirming that the order is what you requested."

"Looks like the order we usually get." Auggie said, his eyes scanning the inventory listed. He checked the box and signed the form. "And I can expect the next order on schedule, right?"

"I promise that we will certainly do our best to get it here." The deliveryman scanned the form briefly."Thank you again. Please let us know if there's anything else we can do."

"I'll do that, thanks. Good day."

"Good day to you." The man left and Auggie carefully picked up two of the cases of wine and took them downstairs to the basement area, which had been converted into a small wine cellar. Carefully he placed it on the small table and picked up the small box cutter, noticing that the side of the case was marked with a red 'x'—something that had never been there before. Probably something to do with the late order, he reasoned—a way to make sure that his boxes didn't get lost in the shuffle. He opened the box, seeing the usual variety of reds, packed in their usual straw. Carefully he extricated the bottles and began to place them in the wine rack.

They felt wrong—that was the first thing he noticed. The weight seemed right, but the liquid inside—putting it to his ear he shook it slightly—no familiar sloshing sound. There was no liquid—not in his bottle.

So what was in there? Auggie could feel a weight, but nothing seemed to be moving inside. Frowning, he shook the bottle even harder. There was a soft thump as the weight seemed to shift slightly, but nothing else.

"Hello?"

The man's voice startled him. The bottle slipped from Auggie's fingers and fell to the floor. The glass shattered, revealing a bundle of cloth tied with a string. He knelt down, untying the bundle and carefully unrolling the soft cloth to reveal coins.

Gold coins—lots of them. He swallowed hard as he picked one of them up, studying it closely, his fingers trembling as he turned it over in his hands.

Just when things had been going so well—

"Hello?" The voice called out again. He recognized the voice of Jeff Diehl, the sous chef they'd hired only a month ago. "Is someone there?"

"Yeah," Auggie called out. "Yeah, I'm right down here. I'm just putting the wine away."

"Do you need help? I thought I heard something break."

"Well, one of the bottles did break, but I'm handling it." His voice sounded remarkably calm to his own ears, despite the fact that his heart was pounding like a jackhammer. Hastily he rolled up the cloth and stuffed it inside his jacket. "It's not a big deal."

"Okay," the man's voice was doubtful. "As long as you're sure."

"I'm completely sure," Auggie said. "I'll handle it and I'll put the rest of the bottles away. It's no problem."

"Well—I'm going to get on with baking the bread and doing some prep work. Let me know if you need help."

"I will, Jeff—thank you." Auggie waited until the basement door closed. He inspected the other bottles in the marked box. No liquid in any of them—they must all have gold coins. He cut open the other box and pulled out a bottle—just normal wine. So it was only one box—at least so far.

What the hell was he going to do about it? One thing he did know for sure was that he needed to go somewhere alone, to think things over.

TBC

_._,_._


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: The usual disclaimers apply. Special thanks go to Ermintrude for being such an awesome beta, and for all of her time and patience. Hope you enjoy:)**

 **New FF: A Dangerous Vintage-Part Three**

 **Friday, October 5, 2013**

 **10:30 PM**

Three-hundred gold coins. That was twelve bottles in the case, twenty-five coins to a bottle. Auggie had spread them out over the kitchen table in his apartment. Thunder rumbled softly outside—the forecasters had talked about a late-evening thunderstorm. Once again Auggie picked up one of the coins and studied it. They each had a panda on them—Chinese bullion, maybe? They looked genuine to him—not that he was any kind of expert in that field. Getting them out of the bottles had been quite a challenge—after breaking a few he'd discovered that the bottom of the bottles had been tampered with—a simple rinse under hot water and the glass popped off in his hands.

Now he knew why the case had been marked with an 'X'. It was part of another shipment—it had obviously been delivered to him by mistake.

And all this time he'd just thought they were relabeling wine. Now it was smuggling. Question was, who were they smuggling this stuff to? And why? Those were questions he didn't have answers to—not at this point, anyway.

A loud knock on his door startled him. "Yeah?" he called out.

"Herr Swann?" It was his landlady, Rose Mahler. "Ist alles—everything okay?"

"Yes," Auggie replied. "Everything is fine. No problem."

A period of silence followed. "I hear some loud noises," she said finally.

Noises—she must have meant the first few bottles he'd broken. "I was just—I was cooking something," Auggie said finally. "I'm sorry about the noise. But everything is fine."

"You need some help?"

"No—no everything is fine. I'm just going to go to bed. Gute nacht."

Another pause. "Gute nacht, Herr Swann." He listened as the sound of her footsteps went downstairs and faded away.

What to do now? Should he call the police? No, he decided—definitely not. He'd already been in enough trouble with that crazy stuff in Qatar and Stetson's daughter –the last thing he needed was to be arrested again. So calling law enforcement was out of the question.

Maybe he should keep the coins instead. Chances are they didn't yet know that a box was missing—and even when they found out it would take some time before they traced it back to him—if they managed to trace it at all. And even in Frankfurt, Auggie had contacts—it was possible that he could fence this stuff before they found out. Maybe even have it melted down first to obscure the trail. Easy money—or maybe not. Auggie's gut tightened as he thought back to Mr. Schadel's partner Mr. Wissinger. At the time he'd just thought of the large guy as quiet, but what if he was actually a heavy? A hired thug? The idea of a vineyard and wholesaler having someone like that on board would've seemed ridiculous before, but not now. All the money he might get from this would be useless if he turned up a stiff. The only other option would be to return it to the vineyard, but that would make him a liability—one they couldn't afford to keep around.

Just when things were going so well—why did this have to happen? What had he gotten himself mixed up in this time? Auggie let out a groan as he raked his hands back through his hair.

His phone beeped. Taking it out of his pocket he saw a text from Ellison, wanting to know if he could be there at eight-thirty tomorrow morning to interview a new prep cook applicant. He replied in the affirmative and then looked at the clock. Ten minutes until eleven—if he wanted to be up in the morning he needed to get some sleep now. Sleep was best, Auggie told himself. The gold coins could wait—there was still time. For now he would clean all of this up, get the stuff hidden and locked away, and sleep on it for a night. Maybe even for a couple of nights.

Hopefully he'd be able to make a decision by then.

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Rhinehassen Winery**

 **11:20 PM**

"A crate missing?" Jon Schadel's voice rose as he repeated the words his partner had just said, his hand clutching the cordless phone tightly. "What the hell do you mean, there's a crate missing?"

"Just what I said, sir." Lukas Wissinger's voice sounded over the phone. "We were getting the shipment together for the scheduled delivery and there are only eleven crates, not twelve."

"And you searched the rest of the warehouse?"

"Of course we did—I searched it myself, from top to bottom. Wherever the stuff is, it's not here."

"Okay, okay—let's just think here—let's be logical." Schadel's mind was racing. "It was there the last time we did inventory and that was what—about ten days ago? So it went missing sometime after that."

"My guess is that it was delivered somewhere else by mistake."

"That's my thought too."

"You realize there've been about forty-five deliveries in that timeframe. That's a hell of a lot of stuff to track."

"Doesn't matter. Go through all of them, follow up, talk to the delivery men—figure out what went wrong and who messed up."

"And then?"

"And then we'll just have to deal with it," Schadel replied. "And I want you to get right on it, Wissinger—we can't afford for this to go wrong."

"Right away, sir."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Das Speisekammer Restaurant**

 **Monday, October 8, 2013**

 **7:30 PM**

"What do you have for us tonight, Herr Swann?" Frau Schmidt asked him. She was seated with her husband Georg and another friend of theirs, a young, beautiful dark-haired woman who'd been introduced to him as Margarete. She was dressed more elegantly than other guests who came here, Auggie thought, his eyes taking in the black sequined cocktail dress with spaghetti straps. Not that he minded in the least.

"A very special gift for my special guests." Auggie presented the wine bottle as he spoke. "This is a Sangiovese _,_ a medium-bodied dry red with complex, luscious, black cherry-like flavors."

"If I may ask, where are the grapes from?" Georg asked.

"The grapes are grown in Tuscany—this wine is an import," Auggie replied.

"The name comes from the Latin, I think." Margarete spoke softly, a smile on her lips. "Sanguis jovis—the blood of Jove?"

"That's right." Auggie smiled back at her.

"Do you really believe all that about the black cherry flavors?" Frau Schmidt asked. "Forgive me for saying so, but most reds do tend to taste the same, in my opinion."

"Well, believe me—this one will not." Auggie removed the cork from the bottle, preparing to pour it. "As I said, this is an extremely special vintage—" his voice broke off as a cascade of gold coins poured out of the bottle instead of liquid. Auggie watched numbly as they poured out of the neck of the bottle, shattering the wine glass and rolling onto the floor.

"A very amusing joke, Herr Swann." Georg said, as his lips thinned. "But surely you'll bring out the real bottle, yes?"

"Yes—I—" He seemed to have temporarily lost his power of speech. The coins kept pouring out, a seemingly never-ending stream. How the hell could this have happened?

"These are gold, aren't they?" Margarete's eyes narrowed as she picked one of them up. "With a panda on the face. Chinese bullion, if I'm not mistaken."

"Bullion being smuggled in wine bottles," Frau Schmidt added. "Smuggled by you?"

"No—I'm sorry—" Auggie managed to croak out the words as the coins piled on the table. Silence filled the restaurant as all eyes turned on him. "I didn't—I mean, I don't know how this happened—"

"I'm afraid that excuse just won't wash." Margarete stood, suddenly dressed in a police uniform complete with cap. "I'm with Interpol, Herr Swann—and you're under arrest."

"No!" Auggie cried out as he felt the cuffs snap onto his wrist. "You don't understand—I didn't do this—I swear I didn't! Please."

"Auggie!"

"No—" he struggled against the hands that were holding him. "You don't understand! I didn't know—I had nothing to do with it."

"Auggie, wake up!"

Ellison's voice. Auggie opened his eyes to find the owner staring at him with concern.

"You okay?" The other man asked. "I came back here to find you and you were shouting in your sleep?"

"Shouting? Shouting what?"

"Just some stuff about how you didn't do it and that you didn't know," Ellison replied. "That must have been one hell of a dream, huh?"

"A hell of a dream, yeah." Auggie ran a hand across his face. Only a dream, but it had felt so real—he could almost feel the handcuffs on his wrists. He looked up at the computer where he'd been writing out the wine list. Sangiovese—so that's where that had come from. "Yeah, that's all it was—just a real bad dream."

Ellison shook his head. "I'd say. Something on your mind? You've been kind of out of it the past couple of days."

"What? No, I'm fine," Auggie said. "Just haven't been sleeping too well." An understatement, he added silently. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing those coins, hidden away in the closet—waiting for him to decide. Like a ticking time bomb—counting down. He couldn't tell Ellison that, of course—it wasn't his problem and there wouldn't be anything he could do to help. "I guess my new neighbors are a little noisy."

"Oh, believe me—I know what that can be like," Ellison said. "I have this one guy who comes home at 2 AM and slams his car door loud enough to wake the dead. Have you thought about complaining to your landlord?"

"Landlady. Thought about it—that might be my next move."

"I would do it if I were you," Ellison said. "Sometimes a talk is all it takes. Look, you can go home now if you like—I can finish the menu."

"No, I'd rather stay here," Auggie told him. "At least until I wrap this stuff up. We have a lot to do before the Book Fair, remember."

"Don't I know it," Ellison replied. "Biggest week of the year—the whole staff's going to have to be working double shifts. Oh, before I forget. The chef talked to me yesterday about preparing a breakfast menu."

"Breakfast? That sounds pretty good," Auggie replied. "What kind of food would we be talking about?"

"Not fusion cuisine this time. He's thinking of the traditional German breakfast—hot beverage, bread, sausage, cheese, eggs—that sort of thing. I was wondering how you felt about it."

"Sounds fine to me." Auggie said. "And a good breakfast is nothing without sausage."

"That's what I say too." Ellison grinned. "I think we could just limit it to Saturday and Sunday, though. That's usually the time when people have the time for a leisurely morning meal."

"Good idea."

"Of course it will take some time to plan it—maybe about a month or so, but I'm glad you're on board with it. So—how did the interview go?"

"Interview?" Auggie asked.

"For the prep chef position, remember?"

"Oh that—it went pretty well, I guess." Auggie ran a hand back through his hair. "There's one more candidate to interview tomorrow, but I think he would be good for the position. He doesn't have a lot of experience yet, but it would be easy to train him."

"Well you know I trust your judgment." Ellison looked down at his watch. "Look, it's nearly 8 PM now—after you wrap up the menu you can go on home—get a little rest."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure," Ellison replied firmly. "Mondays are slow, and besides that you look like hell. Take it easy tonight, okay? I'll see you first thing tomorrow morning."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: The usual disclaimers apply. Special thanks goes to Ermintrude for being a fantastic beta, and for all of her time and help with this. Hope you enjoy ?**

 **New FF: A Dangerous Vintage-Part Four**

 **Monday, October 8, 2013**

 **9:30 PM**

The door to his flat creaked slightly as Auggie pushed it open and stepped inside, locking it firmly behind him. The first thing he did was look around—no sign that anyone had been in here—the closet door was still locked with a pile of books stacked up against it. So he was safe, at least for now. He sank down onto the sofa, realizing that his legs were trembling.

The television—that would help. Something to watch would help to take his mind off things. Grabbing the remote Auggie turned the set on and flipped over to the BBC—one of the few channels that broadcast in English—with German subtitles, of course. The headlines played out in front of his eyes. French workers protesting the closing of the Michelin plant, Pakistani villagers demonstrating, holding signs, complaining about unjust attacks from India. His stomach rumbled slightly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast. Going to the fridge he grabbed some cold cuts and a beer. He popped the beer open and settled back down on the couch. They were talking about a fisheries project in Eastern Somalia now, as a scheme to fight hunger in that region. He ate and drank his beer as he watched the video of fishermen carrying their catch and using nets to pull fish into their boats, taking the fish to the local market. Next came a segment about sophisticated smart phones being used by government officials and agents—idly he wondered whether Lee Stetson had one of those. He took another sip of beer. He felt less shaky now, the dream images starting to fade from his mind.

"And in other news today," the newsreader said. "Interpol agents have arrested several men in Stuttgart and charged them with wine counterfeiting and wine label fraud."

Wine label fraud—Auggie nearly spit out his beer at those words. He clutched the can tightly as he stared fixedly at the screen.

"The men have been accused of relabeling cheap wine in their restaurant, in an attempt to pass off the wines as more expensive." the man continued. "The wines included brands like Chateau Lefite and Brunello di Montalcino. If convicted, the men face stiff fines and possible prison sentences. Interpol states that it is opening a larger investigation into the matter, believing that this problem is widespread throughout Europe."

A larger investigation—Auggie's mouth had gone dry. Granted, the case he had just heard about was slightly different, but fraud was fraud, wasn't it? Not to mention smuggling. And Interpol moved fast—it wouldn't take them long to figure out what the vineyard was up to. And once they found out everything—the dream came back into his head with full force—the coins spilling out of the bottle, the cuffs snapping onto his wrists.

Not to mention what Schadel might do to him when he found out he had the coins—arrest would probably be a picnic by comparison. His hand shook violently—he put the beer and the plate down on the coffee table.

 _'_ _You have to do something.'_ The voice seemed to whisper in his head. The only problem was what? Who could possibly help him now?

'Think, Auggie—you have to think of something'. The thought replayed itself in his mind, even as weariness stole over him and his eyelids slowly began to close.

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 ** _"_** ** _I'm sorry...no…" Auggie whispered. He watched numbly as the coins fell on the table. Every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to run away, to do something to stop this, but his feet felt like they were stuck to the ground. Everyone in the dining room stared at him silently—Frau Schmidt, her husband, the food critic Herr Reichl—he could see the disgust in their eyes. And then there was Ellison. The manager slowly walked towards him._**

 ** _"_** ** _I trusted you," he said. "You helped me to build this business. And this is how you treat me—you betray your own business partner?"_**

 ** _"_** ** _No!" Auggie shook his head. "This is all wrong—this wasn't what I wanted at all."_**

 ** _"_** ** _Not what you wanted?" Ellison repeated, his voice rising with every syllable. "Getting me and this restaurant involved in fraud and smuggling? Was that part of your plan, Swann?"_**

 ** _"_** ** _Look, if you'll just let me explain—"_**

 ** _"_** ** _It appears that you'll be doing a lot of explaining, Herr Swann." Reichl's voice. He stood in front of him, now dressed in a police uniform. "And you'll be doing it to me."_**

 ** _"_** ** _Wait—you're the police?" Auggie croaked._**

 ** _"_** ** _That's right." He pulled out his badge. "Captain Reichl, Interpol. I knew there was something suspicious about the wine the night I ate here. Now I am placing you under arrest."_**

 ** _"_** ** _Please—" Auggie tried to pull away as the man cuffed his hands behind his back. "I didn't do this—you don't understand! Please, just listen!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _I've listened to enough," Reichl said._**

 ** _"_** ** _Then I suggest you listen again, Reichl." Lee Stetson's voice—he knew it was. "Let him go."_**

 ** _"_** ** _Lee!" Before Auggie could turn to see him a loud banging noise seemed to fill the room._**

"Herr Swann?" A woman's voice. "Bitte öffne die tür!"

He knew that voice. Slowly Auggie opened his eyes, wincing slightly as the morning sun pierced his eyelids. He was on the couch, still fully dressed, the television still playing. Slowly his eyes focused on the beer can and the half-eaten food in front of him, and then on the clock on the wall. Half-past seven in the morning. He must have fallen asleep here. And that dream he'd had—

Why did all of this have to happen—why now?

"Herr Swann, please open!"

Another knock on the door—the one noise that wasn't part of the dream. Auggie rose from the sofa, wincing at the pain in the side of his neck, and opened the door. Frau Mahler, his landlady stood there.

"Guten Morgan, Frau Mahler." Auggie said. "Everything okay?"

"That is what I'd like to ask you." The older woman's cheeks were slightly flushed. She was wearing a robe, her blond hair tousled around her face. "You were yelling loud enough to wake the whole building."

Just like back at the restaurant—he'd been yelling in his sleep. "It was just a bad dream, Frau Mahler." Auggie told her. "I promise it won't happen again."

"I hope not." The landlady's expression softened slightly as she looked at him, taking in his disheveled appearance. "My mother—she would make warm milk before bed. This might help?"

"Yeah, I'll try that," Auggie told her. "Thank you very much."

"Thank you, Herr Swann." She replied. "Und bitte—please—no more noise."

"No more noise," he told her. He watched as she went downstairs, and then shut his door. He leaned back against it, his eyes closed, breathing deeply.

Another nightmare, Auggie thought. Slightly different than before, but still the same—the images were starting to fade from his memory, but the feeling remained—and the memory of the voice he'd heard at the end. Lee Stetson—he was sure of it. But why would he have turned up?

Maybe because the dream was telling him something. And probably because Lee was probably one of the people who could help him—help him figure out a way to get out of this mess. Someone had to. Picking up his phone, Auggie dialed the familiar number.

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **4247 Maplewood Dr.**

 **Tuesday, October 9, 2013**

 **1:42 AM**

The shrill ringing of the bedside phone jarred Lee Stetson into wakefulness. He sat up, rubbing his eyes as he stared at the bedside clock. It was almost 2AM. What—who could be calling at this hour?

"Lee, answer it." Amanda said groggily.

"I'm getting it." Lee turned on the bedside lamp, picked up the cordless and pressed the button. "Hello?"

"Lee?" A man's voice. "Is that you?"

"It's me. Who is this?"

"It's me—Auggie Swann."

"Auggie?" Now Amanda was awake, staring at him. "You mean the guy who got deported from Qatar almost a year ago?"

"Look, that's a very long story, and if it's all the same to you—"

"Well, it's not almost the same to me! Do you know what time it is over here?"

"I know it might be a little late, but hear me out, all right? This happens to be an emergency."

An emergency, Lee thought sourly. Knowing Auggie that could mean almost anything. "What exactly are we talking about here?"

A pause. "That's kind of a long story too, Lee."

"Auggie, my patience is running out. Either you start telling me what's going on in about three seconds or I'm hanging up. You got me?"

"Okay, okay," Auggie replied. "But before I start, the first thing you need to know is that none of this was my fault. I'm innocent. I swear—this time I really didn't do anything."

This time—Lee ran his hand back through his hair. He could feel Amanda's hand resting on his back. "Just spill it."

"I'm doing that. Well since I've been in Frankfurt, I've partnered up with this other American guy I met—he needed help getting his new restaurant off the ground. And that's what I've been doing."

"Helping, him—right. Just like you 'helped' the guy in Qatar, huh?"

"No, this is different," Auggie replied. "I have some contacts, called in a few favors—helped him too with getting permits, staff, food supplies—all the things you need in this country."

"I'm still listening."

"Anyway, we've been doing really well for a new place, you know? Making a decent profit and everything—getting good reviews from the critics. You know that we're even thinking of adding a breakfast menu?"

"This had better be going somewhere fast, Auggie."

"I'm getting to it, Lee." Auggie let out a sigh. "Anyway, the problem started about three months ago, when I decided to switch over to a different wine wholesaler—Rhinehassen. They're a pretty new outfit from Armsheim and they even have a small vineyard."

"And?"

"And so I met up with the owner, Jon Schadel, I toured the vineyards and I liked the prices that he was offering. Then I talked it over with Larry Ellison—that's my partner—and I thought we were good to go. And everything seemed pretty normal for the first three months."

Jon Schadel—for some reason that name rang a bell, though at the moment Lee couldn't quite put his finger on why. He took a deep breath and spoke evenly. "Start from the beginning, Auggie—tell me what's going on and don't leave anything out."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: The usual disclaimers apply. A special thanks goes to Ermintrude for being such a fantastic beta and for all of her time and patience with this. Hope you enjoy :)**

 **New FF: A Dangerous Vintage**

 **Q-Bureau**

 **Tuesday, October 9, 2013**

 **9:30 AM**

"Another cup of coffee?" Amanda raised her eyebrows.

"Oh believe me; I think I'm going to need more than a few today." Lee sipped the hot, bitter brew as he stared at his computer screen. "I was just checking out that name that Auggie gave me last night."

"You mean Jon Schadel?" Amanda asked. Lee nodded. "You know, I thought that name sounded familiar."

"Me too— and here's why." Lee pointed at the screen. "Jon Arndt Schadel—2003. He was charged with attempting to smuggle cocaine into this country—the stuff was hidden in containers of powdered milk. He was nabbed by one of our own undercover people, working with customs. "

"Oh, yeah—I remember that case," Amanda replied. "He was funneling the proceeds to terrorist groups, right?"

"That was the theory."

"What happened with the trial?"

"There never was one." Lee replied. "Two key witnesses vanished and the trial couldn't go forward. He was deported and that was the last we heard of him."

"Apparently he's moved from drugs to bullion," Amanda said. "By the way, I couldn't find anything on that other name—Wissinger?"

"Well, he's probably just what Auggie said he was—a hired heavy. Or maybe he's just new to the business."

"So it sounds like Auggie may have actually stumbled onto something,"

"Maybe," Lee said. "But what I haven't quite figured out yet is Auggie's game. What is he up to?"

"Maybe this time he's not up to anything. Maybe this time he's telling us the truth."

"Truth?" Lee gave a short disbelieving laugh. "Amanda, come on—this is Auggie we're talking about—he always has an angle. No, something else is going on here."

"Like what?"

"Like maybe he's been involved in the smuggling himself and he's ratting out his confederates before Interpol closes in? Remember all the stuff he pulled in Qatar."

"I don't know." Amanda shook her head. "Cutting corners to get cheap meat is one thing, but this is a whole different level."

"Auggie's involved in all kinds of crap with all kinds of people, Amanda—he always has been." Lee took another swallow of his coffee. "That's what made him such a useful snitch."

"I know that. But if he was involved, wouldn't he be trying to cover it up instead?"

"A-man-da—"

"Why tell you about it? Something got him desperate enough to call you in on it."

"You've got a point." Lee thought back to the raw panic he'd heard in Auggie's voice last night. "So—what do we have here? He signs up with a wholesale wine company and they just happen to ship a box of smuggled bullion to him by mistake?"

"He said last night that he suspected Rhinehassen of relabeling wine and passing it off as their own vintage," Amanda added. "That would make sense for a smuggling operation—a thriving business makes for a more legitimate front."

"And since he was getting the wine at a cheaper price and saving money, he looked the other way—now that does sound a lot like Auggie," Lee replied. "I'd be willing to bet he's been doing that a lot with this restaurant—cutting corners and skimping on quality."

"Actually, I'm not so sure," Amanda said. "I was looking up online reviews for Das Speisekammer and so far it looks like a very nice place—for a new establishment it seems to be doing quite well."

"Seems being the operative word." Lee spoke drily. "I still don't trust the guy as far as I can throw him."

"Yeah, I know how you feel." Amanda paused. Still, we do have to follow this up, don't we?"

Lee let out his breath in a whoosh. "Yeah, we do. Let's get what we have and take it to Francine."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

"So, our old friend Jon Schadel finally turns up." Francine said as she leafed through the file that Lee and Amanda had put together. "And smuggling Chinese bullion this time—can't say that I'm surprised. Do we know how much might be involved here? "

"According to Auggie, the box that he received contained three-hundred coins in twelve wine bottles," Amanda replied. "Our guess is that the box is part of a much larger shipment."

"That would be my guess too." Francine said. "Gold is a form of global currency. It can be traded anonymously and transactions are nearly impossible to trace and verify—which is why it's so difficult to stop. As soon as we stamp out one source, another pops up."

"Schadel is probably selling the stuff to a metals broker and funneling the cash to the terrorists." Lee added. "That was his M.O in the past."

"That sounds about right," Francine agreed. "So how does Auggie fit into this? Is he helping to smuggle the stuff or is he the middleman—the metals broker?"

"He could be anything—right now I just don't know." Lee admitted, running a hand back through his hair. "But I know I don't trust him, Francine. I'm pretty sure there's he's playing some angle here."

"Either way, we still need to shut this pipeline down, and fast," Amanda said.

Francine nodded. "Agreed on all points. I'm going to arrange for you both to go to Frankfurt as soon as possible."

"Thank you," Amanda replied.

"I'm also going to arrange for you to contact an Agent Dawn MacInnes—she's stationed with the Financial Action Task Force just outside of Stuttgart," Francine said. "She also regularly liaises with Interpol—she might be able to give you more information about what's going on in that area. Keep me posted, and good luck."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Rhinehassen Wholesale Headquarters**

 **4:30 PM**

"I swear, Herr Schadel—I had no idea." The delivery driver's tone was emphatic. "I thought that I had delivered Herr Swann's usual order—the boxes were all grouped together as usual. I didn't realize the marking on the box meant anything. If I had known—"

"It's quite all right, Arne," Jon Schadel clapped his hand briefly on the man's shoulder. "You were new, and you couldn't have known. Now tell me—are you quite sure that you delivered that box to Herr Swann?"

An emphatic nod. "Ja—I am sure. It had the red 'X' on the side, just like you said. I delivered it to the restaurant that morning."

"Did Herr Swann happen to notice the marking?"

"If he did he didn't say anything to me," Arne replied. "He seemed as if he was satisfied and I went on my way. Did I—is this a big problem?"

"Not this time, no," Schadel replied. "In the future, however—please pay attention to what's marked on the box and if you're confused please come to us."

"I will, yes." Arne nodded. "And thank you. I'll get on with my duties now. Goodbye."

"Goodbye." Schadel watched as the young man left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Are you sure that was wise?" Wissinger's voice sounded behind him. "Letting him leave like that?"

"Why not?" Schadel replied. "He thinks that he made a mistake on a simple wine order for a wealthy client. He has no knowledge about what was in the box—there's no danger."

"Maybe, but if anyone should question him—"

"And why should they do that? He's nothing more than a simple delivery driver."

"He could become a problem."

"If he becomes one we will deal with him then." Schadel paused. "The one who is worrying me at the moment is Herr Swann."

"Do you think that he knows?"

"There are two options," Schadel said. "The first is that he unpacked the bottles without noticing anything and they're sitting in the cellar, waiting to be discovered."

A faint snort. "I find that hard to believe."

"As do I. The second option is that he knows and he's decided to keep the coins."

"You think that he's called the police?"

Schadel shook his head, his expression grim. "If he'd done that, they would already be here. And he hasn't contacted any of the known fences—I've checked. No—for some reason he just seems to be sitting on them."

"Sounds like we need to bring him in—pump him and see what he knows."

"My thoughts exactly," Schadel replied. "Find him and have him brought to me—the sooner the better."

 **TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

***Author's Note: The usual disclaimers apply. Special thanks goes to Ermintrude, for being a wonderful beta and for all of her time and patience with this. Hope you enjoy ?**

 **New FF: A Dangerous Vintage-Part Six**

 **Wednesday, October 10, 2013**

 **10:28 AM**

"Hopefully we'll be able to see some of the sights while we're here," Amanda said as their rental car pulled out of the airport, heading down the B43 towards the Hauptwache district. It was a cloudy and cool morning—the weather report called for scattered showers during the day. "You know, I remember the last time we visited—it was about fourteen years ago."

Lee smiled. "For our anniversary—I remember." He reached over, giving her hand a brief squeeze. "Hopefully we'll have some time for sightseeing—though with Auggie I wouldn't bet on it."

"We're just lucky that we got here ahead of that book fair," Amanda replied. "That's one of the largest publishing events of the year."

"Not that much ahead—we're lucky we got the reservations when we did." Lee merged onto the A5. "You know, I remember one year when Billy sent Francine to that fair—she was supposed to retrieve a certain book with a microdot hidden inside."

"What happened?"

"Francine needs to tell you the entire story," Lee turned on the windscreen wipers as drops of rain pelted the glass. "All I can say is that it involves a taxi, a broken heel and the son of the American ambassador."

Amanda smiled. "I can only imagine that story."

"Oh, yeah—it's quite a tale." Lee glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "All right—it's about half-past ten now, and check-in time at the hotel is three. What do you say that we pay Auggie a little visit at his restaurant first?"

"Sounds good to me," Amanda replied as they turned right onto Miquelallee. "Hopefully, he'll be able to fill us in on a few more details."

Lee gave a faint snort. "Hopefully. I swear, Amanda—if he's not being straight with us about this—"

"Lee, let's just wait, okay? See what he has to say first before we jump to conclusions." Amanda said. "Deal?"

"Yeah, it's a deal." For now, Lee added silently. If Auggie was jerking them around, he was going to make him regret it.

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Das Speisekammer Restaurant**

 **10:35 AM**

"All right." Cradling the phone against his ear, Auggie marked down the details in the reservation book. "So that will be a party of five at 6 PM, correct?"

"That's correct," the woman said. She was American, her voice holding a faint Southern twang. "Although my mother's coming in from out of town—we might be a little late."

"Don't worry," Auggie told her. "As long as you're here within the half-hour you'll be just fine. See you tonight, okay? Bye." He hung up the phone just as the sous chef Jeff Diehl came out of the kitchen, his cheeks flushed with heat. "Everything okay?"

"Not quite—one of the prep cooks is running late." Jeff shook his head. "To be honest, I can do most of the work myself, but there's all this shrimp that needs to be deveined and steamed."

The joys of running a restaurant, Auggie thought. "Don't worry," he told the man. "I'll help out until he gets here."

"I appreciate it," Jeff replied. Auggie followed the man to the kitchen, where he donned a hat, apron and gloves. Jeff picked up a shrimp and a pair of kitchen shears.

"We're leaving the shell on," He explained. "So what I need you to do is just cut down the back like this, and pull out that little black thing—that's the vein—discard that and put the shrimp in this container here. Got it?"

"I got it," Auggie took the shears from Jeff. He was halfway through the shrimp and was just starting to get into the rhythm of things when the bell rang up front.

"Excuse me," he told the sous chef, who nodded. He took off the hat and gloves and went into the dining room. Looking through the glass front doors he could see three men standing there.

"I'm sorry," he told them, as he unlocked the doors, opening them slightly. "But we don't open until noon. If you'd like to come back then—"

"We did not come here to eat," one of the men replied sharply. "Are you Herr Swann? Auggie Swann?"

"Yeah, that's me," Auggie eyed the men as he spoke. Large builds, long dark coats—something told him that this was not a social call. "What's all this about?"

"Herr Schadel would like you to come with us," the tallest man told him. "There is a little matter that he wishes to discuss with you."

Wishes to discuss—Auggie could feel his heart pounding, thudding in his ears so loud that he imagined everyone could hear it. He fought to keep his voice steady. "I'm sorry, but that's going to have to wait until the evening. We have a very busy day today, and I'm afraid I just can't—" his voice broke off as the men stepped even closer, surrounding him on all sides.

"It is not a request, Herr Swann," one of the other men spoke. "Herr Schadel does not like to be kept waiting—he will be quite unhappy. As will Herr Wissinger. Do we understand one another?"

Auggie swallowed hard and nodded. "I understand."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

"Uh-oh—we have a situation here." Lee murmured under his breath as they pulled up to the curb. Auggie stood on the sidewalk in front of his restaurant, surrounded by three large men.

"Looks like an attempted kidnapping to me." Amanda said.

"That would be my guess too—come on." Lee stepped out of the car and he and Amanda walked towards the men. "Auggie?" he called out.

Auggie looked in their direction and his face brightened. "Lee!" he pushed past the men and quickly walked towards them. "And Amanda—it's so good to see you both. When did you get here?"

"Just this morning," Amanda told him. "We came here straight from the airport."

"Well, I'm certainly glad you did," Auggie said. "It's just so great to see you both."

"You already said that, Auggie," Lee muttered.

"Well, it's great to see you too, Auggie." Amanda said brightly. "And it's certainly been a long time. Hasn't it Lee?"

Lee gave a grudging not. "Oh, yeah. It certainly has—it's been quite a while."

"So, is this the restaurant you've been telling us about?" Amanda asked.

"This is the place," Auggie replied. "And just wait until you see it—I'll give you the grand tour. Step right this way—if you'll excuse me," he said to the three men, who paused, looking at one another before they stepped further.

"Herr Swann—" the tallest man spoke in a low tone. "This is an urgent matter."

"I'm sorry, I can't talk now," Auggie told them. "Maybe later, okay?"

Without waiting for a response he turned and walked back into the restaurant, with Lee and Amanda following.

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

"I can't believe this!" Phone in hand, Jon Schadel paced the floor of his office as he spoke. "You are telling me that you had him, and you just let him walk away?"

"I'm sorry, Herr Schadel. But he had company. What would you have me do, take them all?"

"No, no—I guess you couldn't do that." Schadel replied. "Who were these people?"

"Two Americans. He seemed to know them quite well."

Two Americans—Schadel's mind raced. "Their names?"

"He called them Lee and Amanda."

"And do you know anything else about them?"

"That's all that I know. Why? Do you think something else is going on?"

"Right now, I don't know," Schadel told him. "But find out more if you can—who these people are and why they're here. We need Mr. Swann and the shipment as soon as possible—there is no more time to waste."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

"Mind telling us who those people were, Auggie?" Lee asked as they stepped through the front doors into the dining area. "They didn't look friendly to me."

"They weren't. But to be honest, I've never seen them before." Auggie kept his voice low. A waiter sat at one of the tables, folding napkins—he looked up at them curiously. "Let's go in the back, though, huh? We don't want everyone listening."

"This is a very nice-looking place, Auggie." Amanda looked around the spacious room. The décor was earthy and inviting—polished wood tables and cushioned chairs, pale gold walls and dark brown checked curtains on the large windows. The curtains were open, sunlight dappling the room. The walls held an assortment of decorative plates and shelves stocked with various items. A dark wood paneled bar was in the back of the room. The entire effect was very much like an old-fashioned pantry, she thought— which was exactly what speisekammer meant. "Looks like you and Mr. Ellison have been doing a good job."

"We're trying," Auggie stepped into the kitchen. "Next year we're hoping to get a television with satellite service soon—people like to come to places like this to watch sports, you know. Stuff like soccer, rugby—"

"Or mud-wrestling?" Lee added. "Come on, Auggie. We didn't come all this way to chit-chat."

"Right back here—this is my office." Auggie pushed open the door. "Ellison's not here yet, so we won't be disturbed."

"Have you told him about any of this?" Amanda asked.

Auggie shook his head, his shoulders slumping as he took a seat at his desk. "Not a word. He trusts me—I was hoping that I could fix things before I'd have to. Now, though—I don't know if that's even possible."

"You still haven't told us who those men were," Amanda sat in a chair across from Auggie, with Lee sitting beside her. "Were they sent here by the vineyard?"

"By Mr. Schadel, yeah," Auggie replied. "Guess they finally managed to trace the order to me. I was banking on a little more time, but now—"

"Save it!" Lee snapped. "Just tell us the whole story. How exactly did you end up with this shipment?"

"It's just like I told you, Lee," Auggie said. "I was expecting a shipment of wine, and somehow I ended up with this box."

"This box that just happened to be packed with bottles full of gold bullion— right. " Lee's tone was skeptical. "And it really was marked with an 'x' on the side?"

"That's exactly the truth." Auggie sounded wounded."I don't know why you won't believe me."

"We do want to believe you," Amanda spoke before Lee could open his mouth. "But you have to admit that you haven't always been completely straight with us. You can't blame us for being a little skeptical."

"No—no, I guess maybe I can't." Auggie drew in a deep breath and let it out. "But I am being straight on this one, Amanda—I swear."

"You honestly had no idea that this winery was smuggling gold?" Amanda asked.

"Do you think I would've gone with them if I had?" Auggie said. "All I was trying to do was save us some money so we could lower our prices and make a profit. Not get involved in something illegal. "

"And what about the fact that they were relabeling wine?" Lee wanted to know. "That didn't strike you as being illegal?"

"That's not the same!" Auggie's voice rose slightly. "I'm running a successful restaurant here. Bending a few rules is one thing, but I wasn't looking to get this place involved in some weird smuggling operation."

"It's a hell of a lot more than just some smuggling," Lee told him. "Schadel is believed to be involved with funding terrorist groups. And if it turns out that you're involved—"

"I'm not involved with any of that, I swear." Auggie's face had turned pale. "I wouldn't have called you if I was, would I? I don't want this gold, Lee. All I want to do is get out of this. Can you help me?"

Help—Lee and Amanda exchanged glances. "We're definitely going to try to," Amanda replied. "First things first, though—we need to see the gold. Can you tell me where you have it hidden?"

Auggie nodded. "It's in my apartment—I can take you there."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

***Hectic couple of days-posting two chapters to make up for it. The usual disclaimers apply. Special thanks to Ermintrude for being such a fantastic beta, and for all of her time and patience with this. Enjoy ?**

 **New FF: A Dangerous Vintage-Part Seven**

 **Wednesday, October 10, 2013**

"I hope you don't mind my telling Ellison that you were visiting relatives." Auggie unlocked the door to his flat. "It was the only thing that came into my head right then."

"It's fine," Lee said. Though personally the idea of anyone thinking he was related to Auggie Swann didn't exactly thrill him. "Just show us the coins, all right?"

"Right. I've been keeping it in here in the closet for a few days now." Auggie's hands shook slightly as he moved the books that he'd been using to barricade the door. He pulled out the box. "I haven't even looked at it—I guess I was hoping that if I didn't see it I wouldn't keep thinking about it. Hasn't really worked out too well."

No, it hadn't been working out, Amanda realized. Now that she really looked at Auggie she could see the faint hollows under his eyes—signs that he hadn't been sleeping too well. "And this all was packed just like a normal wine would be?"

"Just like normal," Auggie said. "I didn't know anything was wrong until I unpacked them."

"They were probably about the same weight—25 coins, 25 fluid ounces." Lee knelt down beside the box, noting the red 'x' on the side. Just like Auggie had said there would be, though he still wasn't completely convinced that this was accidental. He opened the box, seeing the bottles and the coins—he picked up one of the coins, turning it over in his hands. It looked genuine, as far as he could tell. He looked at one of the bottles. "The bottom was tampered with?"

"Yeah, it came apart when I ran it under some hot water," Auggie replied.

"Some kind of special glue that dissolves with heat." Amanda knelt down beside her husband, examining the coins. "And since wine is usually kept pretty cool, there would be less chance of accidental discovery."

"Do you know who the deliveryman was?"Lee asked.

"No. I've been trying but I can't remember his name."

"Think hard," Amanda urged. "Isn't there anything else you can tell us?"

Auggie shook his head. "I wish there was, but that's really all I know. "

"Auggie, if you're lying or keeping anything from us—" Lee said.

"I'm not, I swear I'm not." Auggie replied. "Isn't there anything you can do anything to help me?"

Amanda stood, brushing off her slacks. "Well the first thing we need to do is take this gold out of here—someplace where we can keep it safe."

"Where is that?" Auggie asked.

"We have a contact who works as a liaison with Interpol," Amanda told him. "She may be able to help us out on this one. We're going to arrange to have the gold turned over to them."

"Interpol?" Auggie 's face was even paler than before. "Now wait a minute. No one said anything about Interpol being involved—I never agreed to that."

"It's either that or take your chances with the smugglers alone," Lee said. "Is that really what you want to do?"

"No, of course not," Auggie said. "But Interpol—look, there's gotta some other way we can handle this, right?"

Amanda shook her head. "There isn't any other way."

"But if they find out about the relabeling—"

"The relabeling is small potatoes compared to the smuggling," Lee added. "Face it, Auggie. You're going to have to play this thing our way. That means no questions and no games. Is it a deal?"

A long silence—finally Auggie nodded resignedly. "Yeah—yeah, it's a deal." He let out a sigh. "Guess I don't really have much of a choice at this point."

"No you don't." Lee replied. "And the sooner we can get this out of the way, the better. Let's get this stuff together and get it out to the car."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Financial Action Task Force Headquarters**

 **Esslingen, Germany**

 **3:00 PM**

"It's good to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Stetson—and of course Mr. Swann." Agent Dawn MacInnes shook each of their hands in turn. She was a tall, slender woman, with shoulder-length red hair and startlingly blue eyes. "I'd also like to introduce Inspector Acker from the Bundeskriminalamt—the BKA—which acts as the Interpol National Central Bureau for Germany."

"Good to meet you all." The inspector smiled thinly. He was short and stocky, with thinning grey hair and a bushy mustache.

"Please, take a seat." Agent MacInnes indicated the chairs in front of her. "May I get you anyone some tea? Coffee?"

"No thank you, not now," Amanda told her.

The woman nodded. "On to business, then. I've already spoken to your Section Chief, Ms. Desmond—she informed me that you have evidence of possible smuggling and money laundering?"

Lee nodded. "That's right. We have reason to believe that a company called Rhinehassen Wholesalers is smuggling gold bullion inside certain shipments, one of which was sent to Mr. Swann by mistake."

"And you have this shipment with you?" Inspector Acker asked.

"Yes we do," Amanda said. "Three hundred Gold Pandas stored inside twelve wine bottles. Our guess is that it's part of a much larger shipment."

"Was there any sort of label on this box when you received it, Mr. Swann?" Agent MacInnes asked. "Anything at all to indicate the sender or the recipient?"

Auggie shook his head. "No, just the 'x' marked on the side."

"According to you, you received this box last Friday." Inspector Acker looked at Auggie sternly. "Yet you're only coming forward with it now?"

"Well I did contact the Agency, about two days ago," Auggie explained. "The truth of the matter is that I was frightened—I was worried that I might be in danger and I wasn't sure who I could go to."

"Yes, that is understandable," the inspector agreed. "However—"

"Inspector Acker, Auggie contacted us because he's worked with us in the past," Amanda interjected. "He's provided us with valuable information in several key cases. And yes, I agree that he should've contacted you sooner, but he's coming forward now—that should make a difference."

"That does make a difference." Agent MacInnes agreed. "Unfortunately, Germany has become a favorite for money laundering and terrorist financing, mostly due to our large economy and strong ties with the rest of the world."

"I thought the Banking Act and the Money Laundering Directive were supposed to put an end to that," Lee said. "And weren't those acts strengthened in 2008?"

"Yes, they were," Agent MacInnes said. "And financial institutions are required to report all suspicious transactions. The FATF has recommended that they be amended further, but so far the lawmakers have refused to do so."

"Even with these acts in place, things like gold bullion are almost impossible to trace," the inspector replied. "That's why it is important to put a stop to the activities of Mr. Schadel and his associates. So if Herr Swann is willing to cooperate with us, we're also willing to work with him."

"What about the shipment that was sent to me?" Auggie asked. "Isn't that enough evidence to bring him in?"

Agent MacInnes sighed. "Unfortunately not. Proof of smuggling is not proof of Schadel's direct involvement—and as you've already told us, the box had no other markings or labels. Mr. Swann, is there anything else you can tell us about Schadel or his business?"

"I can't think—no wait, there is something," Auggie replied. "Their winery—they told me that they've been in business for about seven years before they started supplying, but whenever I mention Rhinehassen no one seems to have heard of it. Sorry, I don't know whether that's important."

"That is odd, but it's possible that they simply changed the name. However we will look into that." The inspector leaned forward slightly. "Do you have any other evidence that might tie Schadel to these activities?"

Auggie shook his head. "No, nothing at all."

"Does he know that you were the one who received the shipment?"

"We believe that he does," Amanda said. "In fact, a group of men sent by Schadel came to the restaurant, looking for Auggie."

"Did they mention the shipment?" The inspector asked Auggie.

Any mention—Auggie tried to think back. "No," he said finally. "Just that Mr. Schadel wanted to discuss something with me and that it was important."

Agent MacInnes sighed. "I was afraid of that. Mr. Schadel has appeared on our radar twice before in connection with smuggling and money laundering, but each time we found ourselves without sufficient evidence to bring charges."

"What happened?" Amanda wanted to know.

"It's always the same," the inspector said. "A disappearing witness, lack of evidence, and Schadel is careful never to dirty his own hands. I believe that your organization ran into the same problems?"

"We did, yeah." Lee said. "Two witnesses disappeared right before the trial and there wasn't enough evidence to carry the case forward."

"What we need is evidence that will directly tie Schadel in with the gold smuggling and money laundering," Agent MacInnes told them. "For that we need proof of where the money is coming from, where the gold is being purchased and who is receiving the shipment. To that end my department and Interpol are willing to do whatever we can to help you."

"We will need access to your previous case files on Schadel," Lee replied. "That might help us in pinpointing any associates along with any possible recipients."

The inspector gave another nod. "We can provide those, yes. There is also the matter of protection for Herr Swann. Does Schadel know where you live?"

Auggie shook his head. "I don't think he does."

"He may easily find out. In any case, I don't believe that you should go back home. Perhaps a safe house should be arranged?"

"Actually, I think it might be best if Mr. Swann stays at our hotel," Amanda said. "Especially since we're supposed to be visiting relatives from out of town. It will also give him an excuse to take time off work to show us around."

"Good idea," Agent MacInnes said. "It's important that Schadel doesn't suspect that Herr Swann is working with us—the last thing we want to do at this point is spook him."

"I can also arrange for men to keep the hotel and restaurant under surveillance." The inspector added. "Hopefully this time we'll be able to close this operation down and finally bring Schadel to justice."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

"He has not yet returned to the restaurant?" Schadel asked.

"Not yet." The man's voice was slightly muffled over the phone. "He has not been back since this morning. We were able to find out where he lives, however. A boarding house over on Berliner, about fifteen minutes from the restaurant. "

"Has he been back there?"

"Not since this afternoon, according to his landlady. I have people watching."

"Good idea," Schadel replied. "And what about this Lee and Amanda? Any news?"

"All I was found out was that their last name was Stetson."

Stetson. Schadel's grip tightened on the receiver—there was definitely something very familiar about the name, though at the moment he couldn't recall what it was. "You're sure that was the name?"

"That's what I was given—I spoke with someone in the kitchen staff. Why—is something wrong?"

"No—nothing that can't be dealt with," Schadel told him. "Is there a chance that you can get in there and have a look around?"

"Not with the landlady there," the man replied. "But we are continuing to keep watch. We'll move in when we get a chance."

"You do that. Remember, the quicker we can recover the shipment, the better."

"What would you like us to do if Herr Swann turns up?"

"Take him alone if you can. The most important thing is to retrieve the shipment and get it to the buyer—at this point we don't need complications or witnesses."

"Understood, Herr Schadel."

"I'm glad to hear it." In the meantime he would check out those names, Schadel thought—figure out why they sparked something on the edges of his memory. "Let me know when you have more news—Auf Wiedersehen."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Hotel Miramar Golden Mile**

 **9:00 PM**

"It's good that we were able to get Auggie a room with an adjoining door." Amanda sat in the hotel bed, glasses on, the laptop resting on her knees, looking over the files from Interpol. "That'll make it easier to keep an eye on him."

"As long as he realizes that door is only for emergencies." Lee came out of the bathroom wearing a blue robe, his hair still slightly damp from the shower. "The idea of sharing a hotel with Auggie doesn't exactly thrill me."

"I think the inspector was right, though—he does need protection."

"Yeah, I guess he does." Lee sat on the bed beside his wife. "I don't know, Amanda—maybe it's because I've known him too long, but I just can't shake the feeling that he's playing us somehow."

"So far he's been pretty straightforward with us," Amanda said.

"Amanda, Auggie and straightforward do not go together."

"Well they might this time. He's given us lots of useful information— plus, not to mention the fact that he's agreed to cooperate with Interpol."

"Only because he's scared stiff."

"Maybe," Amanda agreed. "But maybe this time he deserves the benefit of a doubt."

Lee gave a faint snort. "I'll believe that when I see it. Do you have anything so far?"

Amanda shook her head. "Not a lot yet. The past cases are interesting, though. In 2007 he was suspected of trying to smuggle drugs in through Salzberg airport—they were hidden in containers of coffee."

"Sounds a lot like the Agency's case," Lee replied. "What happened?"

"The person who picked up the shipment at the airport," Amanda said. "According to this, he was arrested and offered immunity in return for testifying against Schadel."

"Only they never made it to trial."

"Exactly." Amanda took off her glasses, rubbing her eyes briefly before putting them back on again. "The witness disappeared and has never been found—that case is still open. But with nothing to link Schadel to the coffee or the disappearance, there was nothing they could hold him on."

"What about the second time?"

"That's a little more unusual," Amanda said. "Apparently Schadel was one of five people arrested in Estoccia for attempted money laundering. About three years ago."

"Oh yeah, I remember hearing about that. Didn't they approach the bank about making some kind of a foreign exchange transaction?"

Amanda nodded. "Exactly—according to this they contacted the Royal Estoccian Bank about exchanging five-hundred million in US Currency. The bank was suspicious, they contacted the Financial Crimes Unit and all five were arrested and interrogated—their belongings and rooms were searched."

"No evidence was found?"

"Nothing—they had to release them all."

Lee ran his hand back through his hair. "Kind of makes you wonder where all that money went, huh?"

"That's what I was thinking too," Amanda said. "I was also looking into the background of Rhinehassen Wholesale and Rhinehassen Winery."

"And?"

"And they've only existed under that name since 2011. Originally it was just one part of much larger vineyard, owned by the Stefen Kampf estate and inherited by one Lukas Wissinger—Kampf's nephew."

"Well that explains how he fits in," Lee said. "Sounds like Schadel must be a silent partner of sorts."

"That's my guess too," Amanda agreed. "According to news stories, Wissinger was quite bitter about inheriting so little—even talked about contesting the will at one point. Schadel must have made him quite an offer."

"Yeah, though I'd be willing to bet that his name doesn't appear on any ownership documents—like the inspector said, the man doesn't want to get his hands dirty." Lee let out a sigh. "None of this gets us any closer to figuring out where the bullion is coming from."

"Let's say he uses electronic transfers of cash to purchase the bullion—maybe from somewhere like Switzerland?"

"That's a good guess," Lee said, "though we'd need direct proof. Our best bet right now is to figure out who the recipient is and work from there. The only question is how—if we could get our hands on a delivery schedule this would be a piece of cake, and I don't see how we can do that."

"Maybe we don't need to," Amanda replied. "Not when we have Auggie."

"What do you mean?"

"Well all the evidence so far points to this being a local delivery," Amanda said. "The box had no address labels—no stamps or stickers—chances are that the delivery is being made to a place here in Frankfurt or somewhere nearby."

"That's probably right," Lee admitted. "What we're looking for is a place that's pretty much like the winery—basically operating as a front."

"So probably a business that's doing the bare minimum, and not much else," Amanda said. Lee nodded. "You know, I bet that Auggie knows a more than a few places that are supplied by Rhinehassen."

"And those places know even more," Lee added. "It's a good starting point, but it'll mean a lot of legwork."

"Well hopefully with a little research we'll be able narrow our prospects down. Does that sound like a plan?"

"Sounds like an excellent plan to me, Mrs. Stetson." Lee smiled as he took his wife's hand. "We'll start first thing in the morning." And hopefully they could wrap this up quickly and easily, he thought to himself—though part of him doubted that.

When it came to August Reilly Swann, nothing was ever simple.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

***The usual disclaimers apply. Special thanks goes to Ermintrude for being such a wonderful beta and for all of her time and help with this. Hope you enjoy ?**

 **New FF: A Dangerous Vintage-Part Eight**

 **Bootshaus Zum**

 **2:15 PM**

"Thank you so much for agreeing to talk with us," Amanda said. "My husband and I are planning on opening our restaurant in January, so any advice we can get would be helpful."

"It is no problem, believe me." Vivian Guenther smiled. She was a small, slight woman, her pale blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. She led them into the main dining room, a large area with gleaming white walls, brightly colored modern furnishings and large windows to let in the light. "Actually, I wish I had thought to ask for advice before opening this place. We're quite successful now, but it certainly wasn't easy."

"Is there any advice you can give us?" Lee asked.

"Well if you've got the right permits, that's a big hurdle out of your way," Vivian replied. "They're difficult enough for a German, but for an expat they can seem almost impossible."

"We have the work permit and the business permit is still going through." Amanda said. "We're also looking for ways that we'll can save money and increase our profits. So many businesses seem to go under in the first year—we don't want to be one of them."

"No one ever does," the other woman told her. "But I wouldn't expect too much profit, at least not at first. We certainly didn't."

"How long did it take for you to see some profit?" Lee asked.

"Longer than it should have been, quite frankly," Vivian replied. "The assistant manager I originally hired was lazy and rude—not only to our staff, but to our customers. Since he left we've been slowly building back our reputation. It's taken us about a year and a half."

That explained all the bad reviews she'd seen online, Amanda thought. "Is there any other advice you can give us?" she asked.

"Prices matter, of course—the German public is quite frugal. But what really works for us is the location." The woman gestured out the window, to the outdoor dining area on the riverbank. "I don't know where we would be if we hadn't gotten this place."

"It certainly is a good location," Lee agreed.

"It is indeed." Vivian said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "If you don't mind my asking, where will you be located?"

"We're considering several places," Lee said. "But at the moment we're leaning towards Altstadt."

Vivian nodded knowingly. "Old Town—a good place for tourists, though to be honest tourists seem to be everywhere. And make use of nearby landmarks if you can—we sell t-shirts and jerseys— we've even started selling locks for the couples to put on Eiserner-Steg Bridge just nearby. Believe me, the more you can capitalize, the better."

"That is good advice," Amanda replied, as she wrote in her small notebook. "What can you tell us about suppliers? You know, for food and wine—things like that. Is there anyone you would recommend?"

"Frankly, that's hard to say." Vivian led them back towards the kitchen area as she spoke. "A lot of it depends on the type of cuisine—some places provide a variety, while other places specialize in things like seafood or produce from nearby farms. I do have a list that I can give you."

"That would be a lot of help," Amanda said. She turned the pages as if looking for a note. "You know, someone else recommended a wine supplier to us—Rhinehassen? Have you ever heard of them?"

"Rhinehassen?" Vivian repeated. "I can tell you that our restaurant does currently use them, but I don't know if I'd recommend them."

"Why is that?" Lee asked.

"Reliability, mostly. We were quite pleased with them at first, but lately we've had some problems. Late deliveries, damaged bottles in the shipments—things like that." Vivian lowered her voice slightly. "And then there's the labeling—we've suspected for some time that they've been passing off other wines as their own."

The same thing that Auggie had suspected, Amanda thought. "Have you told the authorities about any of this?"

Vivian shook her head. "I have no proof. All I can tell you is that when my contract is done, I will be switching suppliers. If you do decide to go with Rhinehassen, please—be careful."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

"I think we can scratch that last place off our list," Amanda said as they left the restaurant, heading towards the Eiserner-Steg Bridge. "They may have had problems in the past, but they seem to have improved."

"I think you're right," Lee agreed. "All right, let's review what we have so far. The first place we visited was Die Leiter in Aldstadt—that manager wasn't exactly eager to speak to us."

"Yeah, but I think that might have been because he was short-staffed—he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. I felt a little sorry for him." Amanda looked down at her notes. "Still, we should probably run a basic background, just to be on the safe side. What about that second place—Apfelwein Pub?"

Lee shook his head. "It was too new—the establishment we're looking for will be a lot older than six months." At that moment his cell phone rang. Lee took it out of his pocket and pressed the button. "Stetson speaking. Auggie? Is everything all right? You ordered what from room service?" Lee ran his hand back through his hair. "No—no—that's fine, I understand. It's all right. Wait a minute—you want to go where? No, you can't, Auggie—check to see if the front desk has it—I'm sure they have something. Goodbye." He hung up the phone.

"What was all that about?" Amanda asked.

"Well, he just ordered a steak with all the trimmings from room service," Lee replied. "Plus he seems to be without his favorite shampoo—he wanted to ask if he could go to the chemist next door to buy some."

"His shampoo?" Amanda repeated, raising her eyebrows.

"That's what he said." Lee shook his head. "I think I'm going to regret giving Auggie my cell number."

"Well he does need a way to get in touch with us if anything happens."

"That's debatable." They turned onto the iron pedestrian bridge. It was busy this time of day, crowded with busy commuters rushing by, couples walking hand in hand, and a large group of teenagers posing for a photo against the side of the bridge. Two older men sat on a bench nearby, one playing a clarinet while the other accompanied him on the accordion. A hat lay on the ground in front of them, coins scattered on the bottom. "Okay, what's the next place on our list?"

"A place called Neiderrad Café —it's right on the other side of this bridge." Amanda turned the next page of her notebook. "They've been in business about five years now, according to my research."

"Did you find anything else?"

"Well it was kind of strange," Amanda replied. "I could only find two online reviews, no website, no photos—most restaurants these days have something online. The first number I found turned out to be disconnected and I had to call directory assistance to get another."

"What did you get when you called?"

"A young girl—she said she was the hostess and that they would be open until eleven o'clock tonight," Amanda said. "She wasn't very friendly, though—she kept telling me how busy she was and that she had to get off the phone."

"Yeah, that is pretty strange," Lee admitted. They were nearing the end of the bridge now—they sidestepped to let a teacher and a group of schoolchildren pass. "Especially for a place that's been in business that long—it's almost like they don't have customers. Did Auggie have anything to say about it?"

"Only that they didn't want to talk to him—in his opinion they didn't seem to be running their business very well."

"Usually I'd take anything Auggie says with a grain of salt," Lee said. "But in this case he might have a point. I'd say it's definitely worth looking into."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Neiderrad Café**

 **2:50 PM**

Unwelcoming was the first word that came into Amanda's mind as she looked at the Neiderrad Café. It was a small place, sandwiched in between a coffee shop and a pawnbroker's establishment. The red brick edifice was faded and weathered, and the sign over the door was nearly impossible to read. Just above the door sat a small security camera.

"Not much of a place," she murmured.

"No it's not." Lee pointed to a small sign on the door. "Ring for service—guess we should do what the sign says, huh?" He pressed the bell. A few moments passed before the door was opened by a young woman.

"Yes?" Her accent sounded different than most around here, Lee thought—if he had to guess he'd say she was Austrian. She looked to be about Jenna's age or maybe a little younger, her dark brown hair pulled back in a single braid. She wore a white button-down blouse and a light brown skirt. "May I help you?"

"Yes, you can," Lee said. "I'm Lee Stedman and this is my wife Amanda." Instinct told him that they should use their cover names with this place.

"You are Americans?" the girl asked.

"That's right," Lee replied. He watched as a shadow moved in the shadows behind the girl—someone else was listening to them. "I think my wife spoke to you earlier on the phone."

"Yes, she did," the girl said. "But I did say that we were rather busy today."

"We're going to be opening a restaurant nearby and we've been talking to some other owners in the area," Amanda told her. "Basically we're trying to get some advice, a feel for what this is like. Is there anyone here that we can talk to?"

"Talk to?" The girl repeated, casting a furtive glance behind her. "I don't know—we're quite busy right now. Perhaps if you could come back later?"

"Well maybe if we could come in for lunch," Lee said. "We really just want to ask a few questions, if you wouldn't mind."

The girl shook her head. "That isn't possible at the moment, I'm afraid. Our lunch hour is over now."

"That's okay," Amanda said. "Maybe if we could just come in for a quick cup of coffee?"

"Anneliese." A dark-haired, bearded man loomed behind the girl, wearing a pair of dark slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. "I will deal with this now—you can attend to your other duties."

"Yes sir." The girl left and the man turned to face them.

"I'm sorry," he told them . "But I'm afraid that we are closed at the moment—we won't reopen until six, when we start serving dinner. You may come back at that time. "

"If you don't mind, sir," Amanda said. "My husband and I are planning on opening a restaurant nearby—like we said, we really just had a few questions."

For a few moments the man was silent, just staring at them. "And you are Mr. and Mrs. Stedman, correct?"

"That's right," Lee replied. "We were given your name by another restaurant owner nearby. We just had some questions."

"What sort of questions?" the man asked, his tone suddenly sharp.

"Just some basic questions," Amanda said. "You know, about the kind of business you get around here, tourists, the suppliers you use—things like that. If you just have a few moments to spare."

The man shook his head. "I'm afraid I have no time to spare, and our manager is currently out of town. Perhaps if you were to come next week?"

"Isn't there anyone who could help us?" Amanda asked. "We promise not to take up too much of your time."

"I am sorry, not now. Good day." With that the man stepped back and closed the door.

"Well that didn't get us very far," Amanda said. "I'd say their behavior is definitely suspicious, though. Wouldn't you?"

Lee nodded. "I would—and I'm thinking this could be our front." He took Amanda's arm. "Let's go over to the coffee shop next door. We'll be able to watch this place from there—figure out what exactly is going on here."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

Anneliese watched through the window as Mr. and Mrs. Stedman walked over to the coffee shop next door. They had seemed like nice people, she thought. And it certainly would have been nice to have some real customers for a change. All of the other restaurants in the area seemed to have plenty of customers—but not them. When anyone did turn up, she was usually told to turn them away—at least the people who came to eat. The others who came here—they never seemed to stay very long.

What kind of a restaurant was this? None of it made any sense. She continued to watch through the window, leaning her chin on her hand as the Stedmans took a seat in the outdoor café area.

"Anneliese!"

The man's voice startled her. Quickly she turned to see Herr Woidke, the assistant manager.

"Forgive me if I frightened you," he said.

"You didn't," Anneliese replied hurriedly. "What do you need?"

"I wanted to ask if you could set up a table. Herr Malik will be expecting a visitor within the hour."

"Will they be eating?" Anneliese asked.

"It is possible, yes," he told her. "Why do you ask?"

His sharp grey eyes looking into hers made her slightly nervous—she felt her cheeks growing warm. "No reason," she said quickly. "I was just curious."

"Ahh, I see." He smiled. "Well, if they do, the kitchen will handle that. No need for you to be involved."

"I will lay out a place setting, just in case."

"Good thinking." He glanced over her shoulder out the window. "Isn't that Mr. and Mrs. Stedman? The ones who came to visit us?"

Anneliese nodded. "That's them, yes."

"And you said that they called you beforehand?"

"The woman did."

"And what did she say?"

"She only wanted to know the hours that we were open. I told her we were open until eleven."

"From now on you are to transfer any callers directly to Herr Malik's line. Is that understood?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"You suppose? Is there a problem?"

"Not really," she told him. "I just thought that answering phones was part of my job. If you didn't want me to do it—"

He held up his hand for silence. "It's not a question of not wanting you to do it," he said. "It's just that the owner prefers to handle these things more directly. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good." A pause. "You still have that little flat over on Rosenheimer Strasse, don't you? How is that working out?"

"It's working out just fine," she told him.

"And that roommate of yours—Franzie?"

"She—she's doing well."

"And how is your mother? She lives right outside of Salzburg, if I'm not mistaken."

Anneliese gave another nod. "Yes, she lives in Rothenburg, with my aunt. She's doing just fine."

"You call her every week, don't you?"

How did he know about that? She could feel her cheeks growing even warmer. "Yes, I do."

"And she's doing well?"

"She's fine."

"I am very glad to hear it." Herr Woidke's smile widened. "We're a family here, Anneliese, and Herr Malik and I like to know about our employee's lives outside of work—what they do, who they know. It's very good thing to do—don't you agree?"

"Of course."

"Very good." He patted her shoulder. "Now get the table ready, please. I'll have some work for you to do in the back while they're here—Herr Malik's guest will not wish to be disturbed."

"I understand."

"Yes, I thought you might." With that he turned and walked back into the kitchen. Anneliese grabbed the canister of napkins and carried it to the large table in the back, realizing that her hands were trembling slightly.

What had she gotten herself into?

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: the usual disclaimers apply. Special thanks to Ermintrude for being a wonderful beta and for all of her time and patience with this-hope you enjoy ?**

 **New FF: A Dangerous Vintage-Part Nine**

 **Thursday, October 11, 2013**

 **"** **Auggie, I've already told you," Lee said. A pause—Amanda could hear Auggie's voice coming through the cell phone. "Yeah, I understand the front desk didn't have it, but you still can't go to the store. Maybe I'll pick it up on the way home. We're done talking, Auggie. Goodbye." He hung up the phone with a sigh.**

 **"** **Still no luck with the shampoo, huh?" Amanda said. Lee just shook his head. "You know, maybe we should've brought him with us—he's getting awfully restless, stuck in that room."**

 **"** **And have him running around, slowing things down and wasting valuable investigation time? No, I think Auggie is exactly where he belongs right now."**

 **"** **You have a point," Amanda agreed. "Besides, until we work out what Schadel's game is and put a stop to it, he's still a walking target." At that moment the barista walked up to their table.**

 **"** **Another cappuccino and another espresso." She placed the cups on the table in front of them. "And one large Caesar salad. Can I get you anything else?"**

 **"** **Not at the moment," Lee told her. "This is excellent coffee, though."**

 **The barista smiled. "Danke—I'm glad you're pleased."**

 **"** **Yes, it's certainly much nicer than the place next door," Amanda remarked, taking a sip of her coffee.**

 **The woman's eyes widened in surprise. "You went there?"**

 **"** **They basically turned us away."**

 **"** **I am not surprised." The woman's smile faded slightly. "Hardly anyone ever goes to that place, and when they do visit they always leave pretty quickly."**

 **"** **Do they go inside?" Lee asked.**

 **A shrug. "Sometimes they do. But like I said, no one stays for very long."**

 **"** **Is there anything else that you can tell us about it?" Amanda asked the barista.**

 **"** **Only that they aren't very friendly," the barista said. "They basically keep to themselves. I'm afraid that's all I know—I haven't worked here long."**

 **"** **Is there someone else her who can tell us more?" Lee asked.**

 **The barista nodded. "The manager can give you more information. If you like, I can get him for you."**

 **"** **That would be very helpful, thank you." Amanda said.**

 **Another smile. "Danke. Let me know if you want anything else." She went back inside the café.**

 **"** **People coming and no one staying very long." Amanda took a sip of her coffee. "That definitely sounds suspicious. And did you notice the camera? Right over the front door."**

 **"** **Oh yeah, I noticed it. And I bet there's a camera at the back too—screening anyone who comes in or out," Lee said. "This place is definitely a front."**

 **"** **With Schadel and Wissinger funneling the gold through it," Amanda added. "The only question is what they're funding and who's behind it—if we can figure that out we can close this operation down."**

 **"** **Perhaps I can be of some assistance." A man's voice said. Lee and Amanda looked up to see a portly gentleman with thinning grey hair.**

 **"** **Forgive me," the man said. "I'm Herr Basch, the manager. I was told that you wanted to speak to me?"**

 **"** **We did, yes," Amanda replied. "We were told that you might be able to give us some information about the place next door—the Neiderrad Café?"**

 **"** **I do have some information," the manager said. "You are investigators, perhaps? Or some sort of police?"**

 **Lee nodded. "We are, yes—we are working with the police. Our names are Lee and Amanda Stedman."**

 **"** **It's good to meet you." Herr Basch took a seat at the table. "I have been hoping that someone would finally look into this. I've tried to alert the authorities in the past—to tell them what I have seen— but nothing has ever happened."**

 **"** **What sort of things have you seen?" Amanda wanted to know.**

 **"** **Things which make me think that they're not who they claim to be," the manager replied. "For one thing, they don't seem to use any sort of garbage or recycle service—when every other restaurant in this area has trash available for pickup, they have nothing."**

 **"** **That is unusual," Lee agreed. "But is it possible that they use a different service?"**

 **The manager shook his head. "There is only one service, as far as I know."**

 **"** **Could they take it themselves?" Amanda asked.**

 **"** **To the landfill?" The manager sounded doubtful. "I suppose that they could, yes—they don't have that much garbage—they hardly have any customers."**

 **"** **Your barista was telling us that the people who visit don't stay very long," Lee said.**

 **"** **That is true, yes," Herr Basch said. "But to look at it, who would want to? Its run down—it's an eyesore—it makes the businesses around it look bad. And then there are the trucks."**

 **"** **You mean delivery trucks? " Lee asked.**

 **"** **Possibly." The manager replied. "One of the trucks is marked 'Rhinehassen Wine' and it visits there about once a week."**

 **Rhinehassen, Amanda thought, as she and Lee exchanged glances. "Do they deliver wine?" she asked.**

 **A faint snort. "I suppose it could be wine. All I know for certain is that boxes are unloaded and taken into the restaurant. Mind you, I don't know who would be drinking it—they never have customers that I see."**

 **"** **What can you tell us about the second truck?" Lee asked.**

 **"** **Not much. Like Rhinehassen, they come about once a week—a large white van with no markings," the manager replied. "Boxes are loaded onto that truck—but what or where I cannot tell."**

 **"** **Is there anything else you can tell us about them?" Amanda asked.**

 **"** **What else is there to tell?" The manager said. "The trucks come every Friday and they block the alley completely—sometimes for an hour or more. Once I asked them to move to let our trucks pass and the man threatened to run me over. They've threatened other business owners as well. Can you do anything to help?"**

 **"** **We should be able to help," Lee told him. "First, can you tell us what time the trucks come here?"**

 **"** **It's hard to say—usually between noon and four PM. Are you planning on keeping watch?"**

 **"** **Something like that, yes," Amanda said. "But we need a way to keep that restaurant under constant surveillance. Do you have any rooms that face the alley where we can keep a lookout?"**

 **The manager nodded. "I think I have the perfect place for you."**

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **It was dark as Anneliese climbed the steps to her flat—the light on the landing must have burnt out again. Briefly she considered going to the landlady but decided against it—she would deal with it in the morning. For now, all she wanted to do was get inside, where it was safe. Her fingers trembled as she took the key out of her purse. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, shutting and locking it securely behind her. Briefly she leaned against the doorjamb, taking deep slow breaths, fighting to calm her racing heart.**

 **They hadn't seen her, she thought—at least she hoped they hadn't. If they had—she didn't even want to think about that. All the things she'd heard—**

 **Maybe she was overreacting, she thought—letting her imagination run away with her. After all, she'd only heard part of the conversation. Perhaps she had simply misunderstood what they'd been talking about?**

 **"** **Anneliese?" The woman's voice floated in from the front room, over the sound of the television. "Is that you?"**

 **"** **Yes," Anneliese said. "It's me, Franzie—I'm home."**

 **"** **Did you have a good day?"**

 **"** **It was just fine—a bit long." Part of her was amazed at how calm she sounded. "I think I'm going to bed early, though."**

 **"** **That's fine—I'm just going to watch this movie. Have a good night."**

 **"** **You too—Night, Franzie." Anneliese climbed the stairs to her bedroom and went inside. She sank down onto her bed.**

 **"…** **.send me what you have…..searched the place..… deal with him….terminate….no witnesses." The conversation she'd heard kept playing in her head, like a broken record that wouldn't turn off. And Herr Malik had been one of the voices she'd heard, of that she was certain.**

 **Maybe she should go to the authorities. But if she did, what would she tell them? A vague conversation that she'd overheard wouldn't be enough evidence—they would want some kind of a recording. And if anyone found out she'd told—she recalled Herr Woidke's words from earlier. He knew where she lived; who she lived with, where her family lived—she couldn't risk harming anyone else.**

 **There had to be something she could do.**

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Friday, October 12, 2013**

 **2:30 PM**

 **"** **What time is it?" Lee asked.**

 **"** **Half-past two." Amanda peered through her binoculars. They were parked near the end of the alley, with Interpol agents stationed in the room above the coffee shop. "They should show up shortly—Herr Basch said that it was typically between noon and four."**

 **"** **With any luck they'll be here soon," Lee replied. At that moment his cell phone rang and he picked it up. "Stetson here. You want to go where?" A pause. "I've already told you. No, I don't care—if it's that important you can find someone else to do it. Your boss will understand." He disconnected the call.**

 **"** **What was it this time?" Amanda asked.**

 **"** **Something about the restaurant needing to deliver some documents to the tax office before five today." Lee shook his head. "I don't know—yesterday it was all about that shampoo he wanted and now this—At this point I think he's looking for just about any excuse he can."**

 **"** **He just has a bit of cabin fever—you'd feel the same if you were stuck in a hotel room."**

 **"** **Maybe, but if he calls me again with another story he'll wish he hadn't."**

 **"** **I think you need to be a little more understanding—no, hold on—something's happening now. A white van just pulled up behind the café."**

 **"** **Any markings on it?"**

 **Amanda shook her head. "I can't see."**

 **"** **Well let's see what Interpol sees." Lee picked up the radio, lying next to him on the seat. "Scarecrow here—any news on that white van?"**

 **"** **It belongs to Rhinehassen." Inspector Acker's voice crackled slightly. "And there's a seal on the truck, which means a delivery."**

 **"** **Do you see anything else?"**

 **"** **Not yet, no," the inspector replied. "They're opening the back and lowering a loading ramp."**

 **"** **Yeah I can see that," Lee said. "Keep us posted, Acker—over and out." He put the radio back down.**

 **Amanda looked at Lee. "The rest of the gold shipment?"**

 **"** **That would be my guess," Lee replied. "I'm going to pull up a little closer—we need to see more of what's going on." He pulled a few further into the alley. Pulling a camera out of his jacket pocket, he snapped pictures of the men, dressed in grey coveralls, as they wheeled large metal dollies up the loading ramp, disappearing into the back of the truck. A few moments passed and finally they emerged, wheeling the loaded dollies slowly down the loading ramp. The back door of the restaurant opened and they disappeared inside.**

 **"** **Looks like were four crates on one and five on the other," Amanda said. "An average restaurant order of wine would what—probably about ten boxes?"**

 **Lee nodded. "Give or take a few." After a few minutes the men came back out, closed everything up and got inside the truck.**

 **"** **They're leaving." Acker's voice sounded on the radio. "Should we follow?"**

 **"** **There's no point," Lee said. "They'll just be going back to Rhinehassen. The people we want are in the other van."**

 **"** **Agreed. Over and out."**

 **"** **Hopefully they turn up soon," Amanda murmured, still peering through her binoculars. "What time do you have now?"**

 **Lee glanced at his watch. "A little past three—they should be along any minute now."**

 **Minutes ticked by with no activity, except for a stray dog, who briefly sniffed around the garbage cans before disappearing back down the alley. At that moment Amanda's cell phone gave a beep.**

 **"** **Don't tell me that's Auggie again." Lee said. "I swear, this time I'll wring his neck."**

 **"** **No, it's just a text from Jenna," Amanda lowered her binoculars to look down at her phone. "She wants us to call her when we get a chance."**

 **"** **Everything all right?"**

 **"** **Lee, I'm sure everything's fine. She probably just wants to talk—oh, wait—here we go." A large white truck came down the alley, coming to a stop behind the restaurant.**

 **"** **Any markings, Acker?" Lee spoke into the radio.**

 **"** **Negative on that." Acker replied. "This could be our guy, Stetson."**

 **"** **All right—I'll keep you posted." Lee put the radio back down. The doors to the van opened and two men emerged. Opening up the back of the truck, they lowered the ramp and went inside the restaurant. A few moments later they reappeared, carrying cardboard boxes strapped to metal dollies. Another man followed them outside—a slender man with graying hair, dressed in a suit and wearing sunglasses. He stood, arms crossed, silently watching.**

 **"** **Wonder who that could be?" Amanda pointed.**

 **"** **No idea." Lee continued to snap pictures as the boxes were loaded into the truck. "Maybe Francine will be able to tell us something."**

 **"** **Looks to me like they unpack the bottles here and ready them to be shipped elsewhere," Amanda said. "The only question is where."**

 **"** **That's what we plan to find out." As the men closed up and sealed the truck, Lee pocketed the camera and picked up the radio again. "Okay, they're moving out—we'll be right on their tail."**

 **"** **Got it," Acker told them. "Keep in touch. I have people ready to pick up their trail if you lose them."**

 **"** **Thanks—will do." Lee handed the radio to Amanda just as the delivery men got back inside the truck. The engine started and the men pulled out of the alley with Lee following, keeping two car lengths behind as they left the alley, turning right onto Langestrasse. The traffic was getting heavier, but they still managed to keep them in sight as the delivery truck turned right onto Mainkai.**

 **"** **They're heading east onto Mainkai." Amanda spoke into the radio. "And they just merged into the lane that will take them to Hanauer."**

 **"** **Curious, it sounds like they could be heading for the port." Acker said. "Keep following—I'll have a car waiting there just in case."**

 **"** **We'll be there," Amanda said. "Over and out."**

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Nothing to watch on TV—nothing at all except for old sitcoms and movies—all dubbed into German, of course. And all equally boring. Auggie gave a noisy sigh as he turned off the set and tossed the remote on the bed. As long as he was stuck here, shouldn't he have something to do? He'd even tried calling the front desk, but the most they could offer him was a board game or a card deck to play solitaire with.**

 **There had to be something else. If he stayed put any longer he was going to go crazy.**

 **At that moment his cell phone rang. Maybe it was Lee, calling to tell him that they'd caught Schadel and Wissinger and that he was reprieved. Auggie picked up the phone and pressed the button. "Hello?"**

 **"** **Hey there." Larry Ellison's voice. "I know you're on vacation right now, but I was just getting the stuff together to go to the tax office and I can't seem to find the VAT form anywhere."**

 **"** **VAT?" Auggie repeated. "We don't need to worry about that until next month."**

 **"** **Well, I know that," Larry replied. "But I'm nitpicky, and I always try to keep that stuff in the same place—it just kind of concerned that it wasn't there. Have you seen it recently?"**

 **"** **I don't think so—it's got to be around there somewhere."**

 **"** **Yeah, that's what I'm thinking too," Larry said. "I'm not going to freak out about it—it'll probably turn up where I least expect it. So—how's your vacation going?"**

 **"** **Fine—it's fine," Auggie said. "I just came back to the hotel to pick something up, get a little rest and then we're going out for dinner."**

 **The owner laughed. "Dinner where someone else is cooking and cleaning sounds nice—it's always nice when family comes to visit. Have a nice time, okay? I'll see you when I get back."**

 **"** **See you then," Auggie said. "Goodbye." He hung up the phone and let out another sigh. A nice time, right—exactly what he wasn't having. Not while he was trapped in this prison, anyway. The afternoon sun poured in through the window. Such a nice day, too—a little walk to clear his head certainly wouldn't hurt. He would just have to stay out of sight—to be careful that he wasn't spotted by Schadel or his men. And his flat wasn't all that far away from here either—maybe he could drop in there and check up on things—get some more of his stuff.**

 **Should he tell Lee? No, he decided—it wouldn't be a good idea. All he'd get was another lecture on staying put. Lee and Amanda didn't need to know—as long as he was back before they got home, they wouldn't suspect a thing. It would be a piece of cake.**

 **His spirits suddenly buoyed, Auggie rose from the bed, threw on his jacket, grabbed his keycard and wallet and went out the door.**

 **TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

***Author's Note. The usual disclaimers apply-special thanks to Ermintrude for being such an amazing beta and for all of her time and patience with this. Hope you enjoy ?**

 **New FF: A Dangerous Vintage-Part Ten**

 **Port Frankfurt**

 **Friday, October 12, 2013**

 **5:15 PM**

"Nick Haas—Port Security." The man studied their identification briefly before handing it back to them. "And you are Mr. and Mrs. Stetson—from the Agency?"

"That's correct, yes." Lee replied. "We are currently working on a joint investigation with Inspector Acker from Interpol—here's our authorization."

"Thank you." Nick Haas looked it over and then handed it back. "And how may I help you?"

"We believe that someone may be attempting to smuggle gold through this port," Amanda explained. "About a half-hour ago an unmarked white truck delivered several boxes to this location—license plate FW3495?"

Haas nodded. "Yes, I saw them. They left here a few minutes ago."

"Do you happen to know if the cargo was loaded?" Lee asked.

"Let me see." Haas glanced down at his clipboard and shook his head. "No. The shipment is listed as incomplete."

"Meaning that you have it stored here?" Amanda asked.

"That's right," Haas replied. "It will be in a cargo container, ready to be sent out once it's completed.

"Any idea where it's supposed to be shipped?" Lee wanted to know.

"Not offhand. But if we have that information, it will be on the manifest," Haas said.

"We'd like to take a look at that if we could," Amanda said. "We'd also like to take a look at the cargo."

"That should not be any problem," the man told them. "Come right this way, please."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

The place was completely wrecked.

Auggie stared in shock at his flat—or rather, what remained of his flat. The ripped couch cushions, the papers and the remains of his clothes strewn all over the floor—his small collection of wines had been smashed—they had even smashed the dishes and a china figurine he'd bought at an antiques market.

'They must have broken in.' Auggie's fingers trembled as he bent to pick up a large porcelain shard. They must have been after the gold. If he had still been staying here—god only knows what they might have done to him.

Or what they might still do to him. What if they were outside, watching—waiting for him to return? Looking out the window Auggie could see a black van, parked across the street. And the man standing in front of the van wearing the long coat—he looked just like one of the men who had accosted him in front of the restaurant.

'I should have listened to Lee—I should've stayed in the room.' He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He had to get out of here, and fast—taking the back stairs to the alley—they'd be less likely to see him that way. He left the flat—not even bothering to lock the door behind him—at this point it didn't seem to matter.

"Herr Swann!" his landlady's voice. "Stop at once—I must talk to you!"

"Sorry, no time right now." Auggie called back. "I'll talk to you later, okay?" Without waiting for a response he turned, practically running down the back stairs. The alley looked empty, deserted. All he needed to do was make it out of here and then he'd be safe.

"So there you are, Herr Swann." This time the man was holding a gun, pointed directly at Auggie's chest. "I wouldn't make any sudden moves, if I were you." the man told him. "Now I suggest you walk with me."

"Walk with you where?"

"To the vehicle." He pointed to the van. "As I said before, Herr Schadel is still anxious to have a little chat with you. Do we understand one another?"

Auggie swallowed again and nodded. "Perfectly."

"Right this way, then."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

"That's our gold, all right." Lee closed up the cargo container. "Does the paperwork say anything about the intended destination?"

Amanda shook her head as she leafed through the papers. "It's still listed as 'to be determined'. There is a company name listed though—Sea-Port—the address is only a couple of miles away."

"Probably another front organization—we'll run it through the computer." Lee turned to look at Nick Haas. "Do you know if that company has done business with this port before?"

"Unfortunately no," Haas answered. "I'm quite new here—this is only my third week on the job. However I can take a look at our records."

"We'd appreciate that, thank you." Amanda looked at Lee. "Interpol will keep a watch here in case they return—guard the cargo and detain them in case they come back. In the meantime, you and I should pay a visit to Sea-Port."

Lee nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Sea-Port Inc.**

 **6:10 PM**

"So nice of you to finally meet with me, Herr Swann," Jon Schadel said. "It's been quite a while."

"I was blindfolded and stuffed in a van—I wouldn't call that voluntary." Auggie retorted as he was shoved down into a chair by Wissinger, the blindfold removed from his eyes. He blinked rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the light. They were in what looked like a small office. The blinds were drawn, and Schadel was seated at the desk facing him. Wissinger stood behind him, one hand resting on Auggie's shoulder. "Mind telling me where we are?"

"Regretfully, I can't do that—it's best that you don't know." Schadel smiled thinly. "Still, I trust that your journey was not entirely unpleasant. Would you care for some coffee or tea?"

Auggie shook his head. "Not right now, thanks."

"Straight to business, then," Schadel replied. "The reason I called you here is that I believe you have something of mine in your possession—and I would very much like to have that something back. Can you do that for me?"

"I don't have anything—I really don't know what you're talking about—" Auggie's voice broke off as Wissinger grabbed his neck in a painful vice grip, holding a knife in front of his face.

"As you can see, I'm not in the mood for playing games." Schadel's voice hardened. "We already know that you have the gold. All we ask is that you give it back to us. Understand?"

Auggie kept his eyes fastened on the shiny blade in front of him. He could hear his heart thudding in his chest, the blood pounding in his ears. "And if I do? What then?"

"If you do, you get to leave here alive, and go back to your everyday life," Schadel said. "Just like nothing happened, as long as you don't tell anyone. If not—you really don't want to know what Mr. Wissinger here might do."

"You know, Herr Swann—a small knife like this—it doesn't have to kill you right away." Wissinger moved the knife closer as he spoke. "I can make dozens—even hundreds of painful shallow cuts before you'll bleed to death. "I've done it with others—it won't be an easy death."

"Please—" Auggie's voice broke slightly as he continued to stare at the knife."You don't have to do this!"

"Then where is it?" Schadel asked.

"At the hotel—it's at the hotel where I'm staying." Auggie said. "Right there in the room."

"You really expect us to believe that?" Schadel said.

Auggie nodded. "It's true. The Hotel Mirimar Golden Mile—room 320. It's right there—I put it right there in the wall safe to keep it secure. I have the combination."

"And what about the couple you were with—Lee and Amanda Stetson?" Schadel wanted to know. "How exactly are they involved?"

"Them?" Auggie said. "They're just visiting relatives—they're not involved at all."

"You expect us to believe that?" Wissinger said.

"Because it's the truth," Auggie said. "Look, we're not even in the same room."

"What else can you tell us about them?" Schadel asked.

"There's nothing else to tell." Auggie's face was pale—a thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead. "They're just visiting from Arlington—they're relatives. Look, if you want you can take me to the hotel and I'll get you the gold and give it to you—it won't be any problem, I swear. Please don't cut me."

A long silence followed. Finally Schadel spoke.

"All right, Mr. Swann," he replied. "We'll be taking you to the hotel in a couple of hours. In the meantime you'll be kept comfortable in the anteroom. If there's anything you need in the meantime, please—let us know."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **7:00 PM**

"Any luck with Auggie?" Amanda asked. They were parked across the street from the Sea-Port building, Amanda keeping watch on the entrance with high-powered night vision binoculars.

Lee shook his head as he put the cell phone back down on the seat. "Nothing at all. You know, it was bad enough when he was calling me every three seconds—now I can't get anything. Where the hell is he?"

"Maybe he's in the shower," Amanda said. "Or he could just be taking a nap."

"Maybe." Lee let out a sigh, running his hand back through his hair. "Or he could be down at the bar—or he could just be wandering the streets, finding ways to get himself –and us—into trouble."

"You don't know for certain that he's doing that."

"And I don't know that he's not. What I do know is that if he doesn't answer soon, he'll be in big trouble with me. Any activity?"

Amanda shook her head as she adjusted the binoculars. "Nothing yet—I can see some lights inside but that's about it. The white van is parked outside along with a couple of other cars—this is definitely the right place."

"What about the port?"

"Acker says it's quiet—no activity at all."

"It'll probably stay quiet for now," Lee said. "If something's going to start, it'll start here. All we can do right now is wait."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

"I trust our guest is comfortable?" Schadel asked as Wissinger came back in the room.

"As comfortable as he can be," Wissinger took a seat. "You really think the gold's in the hotel room?"

"I think it's likely. And we need that gold—our clients in Ankara will be expecting their complete shipment next week. I would hate to disappoint them."

"And what do we do about Herr Swann?"

"As soon as we get the gold he'll have to be disposed of." Schadel said. "It's regrettable, but we can't trust him not to talk. And then there are the Stetsons."

"Any idea who they are?"

"I know they're more than mere relatives," Schadel replied. "I spoke to Herr Malik earlier and he mentioned a couple that visited the restaurant—a Mr. and Mrs. Stedman. From his description I'm certain that they and the Stetsons are one and the same."

"Who could they be? Interpol?"

"Possibly—or possibly American intelligence—I'll soon find out which," Schadel said. "Either way, they may have to be dealt with as well." He looked down at his watch. "Call Malik. We're moving within the hour."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **8: 15 PM**

"I wish we could see more of what was happening." Amanda peered through her binoculars. "Those trucks completely blocked our view of that black van that came in an hour ago—we have no idea what was in there."

"Well we know it's not the gold shipment."

"Yeah, but I'd be willing to bet that gold isn't the only thing they smuggle," Amanda replied. "Can't we move any closer?"

Lee shook his head. "If we get closer they might get suspicious. We don't need that kind of attention right now."

"Well in a little while we might not have a choice—"Amanda's voice broke off, her hands tightening around the binoculars. "No hold on—something's happening."

"What is it?"

"Three men are coming out now. It looks like Schadel—the shorter man is probably Wissinger, and –oh no."

"Oh no what? What's going on?"

"Look for yourself." Amanda handed him the binoculars.

Lee looked. He saw the two men, walking briskly towards the van. And in between them was another man, blindfolded, his hair and clothes disheveled and his hands restrained behind him.

It was Auggie Swann.

"Just what in the hell is he doing here?" Lee muttered under his breath.

"He must have been in the black van that came in," Amanda said. "It explains why we weren't able to get a hold of him."

"Well the next time I do get a hold of him he's going to regret it—we told him repeatedly not to go out." Lee watched as Auggie was shoved into the back of the van. "Looks like they're taking him somewhere."

"We need to follow them."

"Yeah, we do." Lee replied. "Get on the phone to Interpol, Amanda—let them know that plans have changed and that we may need backup."

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

***The usual disclaimers apply. Special thanks goes to Ermintrude for being a fantastic beta and for all of her time and patience with this. Hope you enjoy ?**

 **New FF: A Dangerous Vintage-Part Eleven**

 **Friday, October 12, 2013**

 **8:25 PM**

Auggie was definitely in over his head.

He crouched, still cuffed, in the back of the van. The air was stuffy and close, beads of sweat had collected below the blindfold and the motion of the vehicle made his stomach feel slightly queasy. Auggie swallowed hard as his gut gave a sudden lurch, trying to keep the nausea down—the last thing he needed at this point was to throw up on himself.

What was he going to do? The story about the safe had been a ploy, a spur of the moment attempt to buy some time—but it wouldn't buy him much. Sooner or later they were going to reach the hotel, and when they did Schadel would find out that he didn't have the coins after all. Hopefully Lee and Amanda would be there to help, but if they weren't? What could he do then? Make a run for it? Maybe he could alert security—the police—someone who might be able to help.

 _'_ _He'll have to be disposed of—can't trust him not to talk.'_ The words that he'd overheard from the conversation between Schadel and Wissinger echoed in his head. He had to think of something. If he didn't—but he couldn't let himself think that way.

The truck came to a sudden stop and Auggie swallowed hard, fighting down another rush of nausea. A few moments passed, he heard the faint sound of footsteps and the back door opened.

"Step down, Swann." Schadel's voice. Auggie did as he was told. The blindfold was removed, allowing him to see that they were standing in a dimly-lit parking garage. Schadel removed the cuffs too.

"What was the room number again?" Schadel asked.

"Room 320—the safe is behind the painting over the bed and the combination is in the drawer of the bedside table." He wasn't sure if that was true, but it sounded right.

"Very good—we're going up there now," the man said. "And don't think of trying anything. Even without the cuffs, Wissinger will have a gun on you at all times, and he will not hesitate to use it. Do you understand?"

Auggie nodded. "Yes, I understand."

"Very good." Schadel shoved Auggie forward. "Then let's move."

Lee and Amanda would be there, Auggie thought as they walked towards the elevator. This would all work out somehow—it just had to.

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

"We're headed your way, Stetson."Acker's voice sounded over the radio. "We should be there about five minutes. How many men are we talking about?"

"Looks like just Schadel and Wissinger." Lee kept his binoculars trained on the van.

"Are they armed?"

"At least one of them is," Lee replied. "They're taking Auggie out of the van now."

"Got it," Acker replied. "Don't make a move until we get there. Over and out."

"They're headed towards the elevator—looks like they're taking him to the room," Amanda said. "Should one of us follow?"

Lee shook his head. "Nothing's likely to happen to him in the hotel—too many possible witnesses. We've got the van in our sights and backup is on the way—they aren't going anywhere. The only thing we can do now is wait."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Hotel Miramar Golden Mile**

 **9:10 PM**

"Nothing!" Schadel's voice rose as he threw the painting across the room, his expression dark with rage. "No safe and no combination. What sort of game are you playing here, Herr Swann?"

Any minute now, Auggie thought—his gaze went towards the adjoining door—silently willing it to fly open, and Lee and Amanda to come to his rescue. "I-I don't understand this." He stammered. "Look, I know where I put the gold. You know, maybe the hotel removed the safe for some reason."

"Really?" Schadel moved closer. Auggie tried to take a step back, but Wissinger held his arms tightly. "And what reason would that be, precisely?"

"How would I know? Maybe if you look behind one of the other pictures—" Auggie's voice broke off in a cry of pain as Schadel jammed the gun into his gut, causing him to double over.

"I'm through with these childish evasions," Schadel knelt beside him. "Tell me where the gold is now, before I take you and this room apart."

"I can't," Auggie managed to gasp out. "I don't—I don't know."

Schadel laughed shortly. "You don't know?" He roughly grabbed Auggie by the collar, forcing the man's eyes to meet his own. "Perhaps we should go into the bathroom, Herr Swann—maybe a brief dip in a hot bath would refresh your memory. Do you think it might?"

Still no Lee and Amanda—no one bursting through the door. Just what the hell was taking them so long? Auggie had to keep stalling for as long as possible. "Look, maybe the police came in here and took the safe with the gold in it."

"First the hotel, now the police." Wissinger said. "You really expect us to believe any of this?"

"It's possible. Look, they wanted to talk to me and they've probably been following me—I wouldn't be surprised if they came in here and took it."

"Or maybe you gave it to them." Schadel's grip tightened on Auggie's collar. "Maybe you've been working with them all along."

"And risk going to jail myself?" Auggie said. "Come on—you know I wouldn't do that."

"Oh, I think you might." Schadel released Auggie's collar and stood. "At any rate I am through playing games. So after my associate and I search this room, if you still haven't recalled where the gold is—we're going to take a little trip down to the Main River."

"The Main River?" Auggie repeated, swallowing visibly.

"Precisely." Schadel smiled thinly. "My associates should be there right now, you know—getting the boat ready. We're loading all the gold that we have and we're all going to take a little trip."

"That—that's really not necessary." Auggie stammered. "I'm not too good with water, you know."

"We don't expect you to be," Schadel said. "Many drownings happen there, you know—suicides as well—and I'm afraid that you'll be one more unfortunate casualty."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

"Okay, it looks like someone's coming down the elevator now." Amanda peered out from behind a van as she spoke into her radio. "I'm positioned about forty feet from the door."

"We have you in our sights and covered, Ms. Stetson." Acker's voice said. "The entire area is surrounded. Trust me; no one is getting out of here."

"We're going to make sure of that." Lee's voice replied.

"Okay, everyone get ready." Amanda murmured as the elevator doors started to open. The first person she could see was Auggie, being held tightly by Wissinger.

"Look, if we could just talk about this—" Auggie said. Amanda could see now that his wrists were tied and that Wissinger had a pistol jammed into his back. "I'm sure there's no need to get so drastic. Come on—let's be reasonable, huh?"

"The time for reason is over," Schadel's voice echoed in the garage. "Now move."

"How many weapons?" Lee's voice.

"Only one that I can see." Amanda kept her voice low.

"I'd be willing to bet Schadel's armed as well." Acker's voice. "I'd like to get Herr Swann out of harm's way before we move in."

"So would I," Amanda said. "I think I have an idea." They were moving close to her position now—with Auggie being half-pushed, half-dragged towards the van. This was her chance.

"Auggie!" She yelled. Before anyone could react Amanda came out from the behind the van and knocked him down and out of the way.

"You really shouldn't have done that." Wissinger lifted the pistol, aiming at Amanda, his finger on the trigger, but before he could fire Lee barreled into him, knocking the gun out of his hand. A punch to the gut followed by a swift uppercut to the jaw and Wissinger lay on the ground, unmoving.

"Not so fast, Herr Schadel." Inspector Acker trained his gun on the man as Schadel began to reach towards his pocket. "Keep your hands where I can see them." Schadel froze.

"You don't know who you're messing with," Schadel said. "You will regret this."

"Oh, I very much doubt that. " The inspector told him. He moved forward, disarming Schadel and cuffing his hands behind his back. The other officers moved in to restrain Wissinger.

"Are you okay?" Lee asked Amanda as he helped her off the floor. "You took one hell of a chance, doing what you did."

"Yeah, but I figured it was our only chance to get Auggie away from him." Amanda brushed off her clothes as she stood. "By the way, where—" She looked down at the ground where Auggie seemed to be trying to stuff himself under a nearby car.

"You can get up now," Lee told him. "It's okay."

"Thank god—that was way too close for comfort." Auggie slowly rose to his feet. "Took you long enough, though—why weren't you in the hotel room?"

"The hotel room?" Lee repeated.

"Yeah—I was sort of expecting you to be there when I brought Wissinger and Schadel in."

"That's funny." Lee crossed his arms. "Because we were sort of expecting you to stay in the hotel room, remember?"

"Oh yeah—that." Auggie looked sheepish. "Well, look at it this way—you wouldn't be arresting these guys right now if I hadn't been here, would you? Everything turned out all right."

"Auggie, I swear—" Lee's voice rose, and Amanda put a hand on his arm.

"We can talk about all this later," she said. "Right now we need to get back to the warehouse and retrieve that gold shipment."

"Yeah, especially since they're planning to ship it out tonight." Auggie added. "I was going to tell you that," he said as Lee shot him a look.

"Whatever," Lee replied. "Let's tell Interpol and get moving—something tells me we don't have much time."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Port Frankfurt**

"Oh I don't like the look of this," Amanda said as they pulled up to the warehouse. Everything was dark—no lights, no people that she could see. "Interpol was supposed to have men keeping watch, weren't they?"

Lee nodded. "Supposed to, yeah. And I don't see any sign of that other guard either." He turned to face Auggie, who was seated in the back. "Any idea where this gold was being shipped?"

"Yeah, I heard them talking," Auggie replied. "They said it was being shipped to their clients in Ankara, wherever that is."

"It's the capital of Turkey and a major shipping port," Amanda told him. "I'm betting that Schadel's used it before."

"Well if all else fails we'll intercept the cargo there—hopefully we're not too late." Lee opened the car door. "Auggie, I want you to get on the radio and let Interpol know what's going on and that we need backup. And whatever you do, don't get out of this car. You hear me?"

Auggie gave a shaky laugh. "Listen, you don't have to tell me twice."

Lee and Amanda got out of the car and advanced towards the darkened building, their guns drawn. Now that they were closer to the building they could see a faint light inside, and figures moving within.

"Looks like we might be just in time," Lee said. Amanda nodded.

"Help me—please—"A voice spoke faintly. Moving towards the sound, Lee and Amanda could see the figure of security guard Nick Haas, slumped against one of the crates. He was pale, his eyes open, one hand clutching his bloodied shoulder. Amanda knelt down beside him.

"Don't worry." Taking off her jacket she pressed the cloth against the wound. "Help is on the way—we'll get you to the hospital soon—you'll be all right."

"They ambushed us—" the man rasped. "Should have been more careful, I think."

"How many?" Amanda asked.

"About four, I think—two were patrolling outside and the rest of them inside—don't—don't think they've left yet."

"And what about the Interpol man?"

"Might be dead—saw him take a shot to the chest." Nick's eyes started to close. "They can't get the gold on the boat—don't let them."

"We won't," Amanda told him. Putting her fingers on the side of his neck she he felt for his pulse –it was slow but steady—hopefully he would be all right until medical help arrived. Together she and Lee moved closer to the building's entrance.

"Lee!" Amanda shouted as a figure popped up from behind the crates, gun in hand. A shot rang out and Lee ducked as he returned fire, hitting him squarely in the chest. The man fell just as another figure emerged.

"Hold it." Amanda trained her gun on him. The man froze, his hands up in the air. "Drop the gun and kick it away from you—do it now!" After a moment's hesitation the man complied. "Good. Now keep your hands where I can see them, lace your fingers behind your head and turn around, slowly." The man did, and Lee moved forward to quickly cuff him.

"The guard said there were two men still inside," Amanda told him.

Lee nodded. "Yeah, I them saw through the window. They're probably moving out to the docks soon—the cargo container's out there." At that moment more cars pulled up. "There's Interpol now—let's get with them and figure out our next move."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

"My men and I are entering the warehouse now." Inspector Acker's voice sounded in Lee's radio. "Mrs. Stetson is keeping the entrance covered."

"Very good," Lee replied. "I'll be coming around the back."

"Copy that—over and out." Stuffing the radio in his jacket Lee held his gun at the ready as he entered the building, dropping to a crouch as he carefully skirted the outside perimeter, taking care to keep to the shadows. As he neared the back entrance that led to the docks he could hear the faint sound of voices. Peering in through the rear window he could see two men—a tall dark man with a beard and slightly shorter man with blond hair.

"—thought I heard shots out front." The shorter man said. "Shouldn't we check on the others?"

"No time for that now." Lee recognized the bearded man now—he'd seen him earlier, back at the café. Lee moved closer to the back entrance, crouching down behind a nearby crate "Get the boat ready-we're taking the shipment and we're leaving."

"This boat is not supposed to leave without authorization from Herr Schadel. Must I remind you that he's the one in charge here?"

"Really? Well since we are unable to contact Herr Schadel, it would seem that I'm in charge now."

"Perhaps. But even so—"

"Unless you'd care to explain a late shipment to our Turkish partners?" The other man's voice took on a slightly menacing tone. "And to Herr Malik, of course."

A pause. "No—no, I wouldn't want to do that."

A soft laugh. "Somehow I didn't think you would. Now let's get moving—we're heading out in ten minutes."

"Hold it right there." Acker's voice.

Everything else seemed to happen in slow motion. From his vantage point Lee watched as the bearded man fired, narrowly missing the inspector, who ducked behind a stack of crates as he returned fire. The other man fired again and Lee heard more gunshots, probably from Acker and his men. He moved closer to the back entrance as the bearded man ran outside, heading towards the docks. Lee dove out from behind the crate and easily tackled the man, managing to wrestle the gun from his grasp. The shorter man came running up but froze as Lee leveled the gun directly at him.

"Don't even think about it," Lee told him. "Keep your hands right where I can see them."

"You're not getting away with this, Herr Stedman." the bearded man told him.

"Oh no?" Lee spoke between gritted teeth he grabbed the man by the collar and hauled him roughly to his feet. "I think I already have." At that moment, Acker and his men came running up.

"We'll take it from here." Acker told him, as his men moved in to cuff both of the suspects. "And the rest of the gold is in the cargo container?"

"That's where it is," Lee said. "According to Auggie they were planning to ship it to their partners in Ankara."

"I see." Acker nodded. "We'll be following up on that as well. Let's take care of these men, and then we can retrieve the gold and get back to headquarters. "

 **TBC**


	12. Ending and Epilogue

***Author's Note: The usual disclaimers apply. Special thanks goes to Ermintrude for being a fantastic beta and for all her time and patience with this-and also to Lynda for some excellent brainstorming. Hope you enjoy :)**

 **New FF: A Dangerous Vintage-Ending and Epilogue**

 **Financial Action Task Force Headquarters**

 **Esslingen, Germany**

 **Friday, October 12, 2013**

 **11:45 PM**

"Thank you again for your cooperation, Herr Swann," Inspector Acker said. "Without your assistance in this matter, we may have never discovered what was happening here."

"Yeah, well—I'm glad to hear that it helped." Auggie rubbed the back of his neck. "Incidentally—"

"Yes?" Acker raised his eyebrows.

"Well, you know—about the way that I came across that information—I mean, considering that I did help you out—do you think that maybe—"

"Yes, I know what you're saying," the inspector replied. "I think that considering the information you provided, we can afford to overlook your indiscretion this time."

Augie looked relieved. "Thanks—I really appreciate that."

"Not a problem." The inspector paused, looking at the man sternly. "In the future, however, we would prefer that you stick to the more conventional wine distributors—no more trying to cut corners. Do you understand?"

Auggie nodded. "Oh yeah—I understand. Believe me; from now on I'm going to play it completely straight."

A brief smile. "I am glad to hear it, Herr Swann."

"What about Wissinger and Schadel?" Lee wanted to know.

"We're still compiling evidence at this time." Acker replied. "However, we should have no trouble in connecting them, Rhinehassen and Sea-Port into the smuggling operation. It also appears that gold may have not been their only export."

I bet, Amanda thought—remembering all of the vehicles she'd seen going in and out of that place. "Do we know how the Neiderrad Café ties in?"

"Obviously it was being used as a front organization for the smuggling ring—though as I said we're still uncovering all of the details," Acker said. "The bearded gentleman you helped to apprehend is none other Helmut Woidke. He is listed as the manager of the café, along with Aqib Malik."

"Malik?" Lee repeated. "Isn't he an explosives expert?"

Acker nodded. "That's the one, yes. And according to your agency he has ties to extremist cells throughout the Middle East. We don't yet have Malik in custody, but we expect to quite soon. You may rest assured that they all will be put away for a very long time."

"Let us know if there's anything more we can do to help." Lee said.

"I certainly will, Herr Stetson—and again, thank you—thank you all."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Saturday, October 13, 2013**

 **9:20 AM**

There would be no going in to work today, Anneliese thought—not for her. She sat on her sofa, her feet tucked under her, coffee cup in hand. Thunder rumbled ominously outside but she took no notice, her eyes fastened to the television screen—to the image of Herr Malik, his hands cuffed behind him as he was escorted from the restaurant, a coat over his head, and hustled into a nearby police car.

"Aqib Malik was arrested early this morning at the Neiderrad Café," the voiceover intoned. "It is believed that both Malik and Helmut Woidke have been using the café as a front for an international smuggling ring. Woidke was taken into custody late last night."

A smuggling ring. Anneliese felt cold inside as she thought back to all the strange meetings—all of the times she'd turned tourists and local customers away.

 _'…_ _.terminate….no witnesses.'_ Again those words ran through her head, sending a chill through her body. She should have realized there was something strange about that—something wrong—perhaps she should have contacted someone earlier. If someone had been harmed because of her inaction—she didn't even want to think.

Would someone be contacting her in connection with this? It was very possible—even though she was only a low level employee; her name was bound to turn up sooner or later.

"Here." Franzie came in from the kitchen, handing her a small plate. "Some brötchen with jam and butter for breakfast—just the way you like them."

"Thank you." Anneliese smiled as she took the plate. "They look delicious."

Franzie smiled. "It's no trouble. I baked them up fresh this morning—I thought that we could both use a treat today." She sat on the sofa beside Anneliese. "So, are they still talking about the café?"

Anneliese nodded as she picked up one of the bread rolls and tore off a piece, popping it in her mouth. "It's all they've been talking about so far."

Franzie shrugged. "Slow news day."

"Inquiries are still ongoing at this time," the newscaster's voice said. "Interpol is asking for the public's assistance in tracking down anyone else who may be involved in this operation. Anyone with any information is asked to contact Interpol or their local police station."

Anyone with any information. Anneliese took another sip of her coffee, her thoughts racing. Maybe she didn't have much that she could tell them, but if something she knew could possibly help, perhaps it would be worth it.

She reached over to the coffee table, grabbing her phone.

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Das Speisekammer Restaurant**

 **5:30 PM**

"Welcome!" Auggie greeted Lee and Amanda as they stepped in the front door. "Come right this way—I've reserved the very best table for you."

Amanda smiled. "Thank you very much, Auggie."

"Well believe me—this is my way of thanking you." Auggie replied as he seated them and handed them each a menu. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Anything you'd recommend?" Lee asked.

"The Domaine Austertag 2012 Fronholz Riesling from Alsace is excellent," Auggie replied. "It was given 96 out of 100 by Food and Wine Magazine."

"We'll have that to start then," Amanda said.

"I'll be right out with a bottle," Auggie said. "And don't worry about the price, okay? The meal is all on me." He disappeared in the kitchen.

"Well it seems like this place really is doing very well," Amanda said. "It's absolutely packed in here tonight."

"Yeah, it looks that way." Lee agreed as he glanced around.

"So maybe Auggie has finally turned over a new leaf, do you think?" Lee said nothing in reply. "Come on, Lee—I think after all this he deserves the benefit of a doubt."

"After all this? You mean getting himself involved with an illegal vineyard and smuggling operation? Sneaking out and getting himself kidnapped?"

"Be fair—without all of this we never would have discovered that any of this was going on."

"Yeah—yeah, I guess you're right." Lee let out a sigh. "It's just—I mean—I'm trying to, but trust doesn't exactly come easy when Auggie is involved."

"Excuse me." A man's voice. Lee and Amanda looked up to see the owner Larry Ellison standing there. "Do you mind if I join you for a moment?"

"Not at all," Amanda said. "Please, take a seat."

Larry smiled. "Thank you." He pulled out a chair and sat down. "It's Lee and Amanda Stetson, isn't it?"

"That's right," Lee said.

"Auggie told me that you two were relatives," Larry hesitated, lowering his voice slightly. "Only I get the feeling that's not the whole story—is it?"

Lee and Amanda exchanged a glance. "No, we're not biologically related," Amanda began. "Let's just say that we've known Mr. Swann for quite some time."

"I sort of figured you had," Larry said. "Tell me something. This—issue that he's been having. Is it completely resolved now? Everything over."

"His role in it is basically over, yes." Lee replied. "Actually, he was pretty helpful."

Larry nodded. "That's good. I have a feeling that I know what it was about—I really don't need details." Another pause. "Can I be straight with you?"

"Sure," Lee said.

"Thanks," he said. "Listen—I know that Auggie is far from perfect. And I know that he's made some big mistakes in his past—and even in his present."

"You knew all of that?" Amanda asked.

"Quite a bit of it, yeah," Larry replied. "You see, when I made the decision to go into this venture with him I did a little checking into his past."

"But you still decided to keep him on," Lee said, and Larry gave a nod. "Why is that?"

"Mainly because I believe in second chances," Larry told him. "Lord knows, people have given me enough of them. And despite everything he's done a good job with this place—at the end of the day I really believe that he's trying to improve. And trying does count for something." At that moment Auggie came towards their table with a bottle and glasses. Larry rose to his feet. "I've got to go in the back and work on the accounts now—do me a favor and don't tell him what we talked about, okay?"

"Don't worry, we won't say a word." Amanda told him.

"Appreciate it," Larry smiled. "Anything else you folks need, just let me know. And please—enjoy your meal and the rest of your stay in Frankfurt."

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

"That was a wonderful meal," Amanda said as they left the restaurant, strolling hand in hand along the sidewalk. It was a pleasant night, clear and crisp—two buskers on the corner were strumming acoustic guitars. "I hope that Auggie will keep doing as well as he is—right now it looks pretty good for him."

"Yeah, it does," Lee squeezed his wife's hand. Hopefully it would stay that way, he added silently. People could surprise you sometimes—even people like Auggie. "Hey, did you ever call Jenna back after that text?"

Amanda nodded. "I left her a message—we seem to be playing telephone tag these days. She's been so busy lately."

"Don't worry—I'm sure we'll hear back from her soon," Lee said. "Listen, we've got a day and a half until our flight leaves—what do you say we enjoy the rest of our time here in Frankfurt?"

"What did you have in mind?" Amanda asked.

"Well, maybe we can take a nice stroll along Berger Strasse—take in some shops and maybe a nice café or two," Lee replied. "There's also that new Japanese restaurant I keep hearing about. And The Palmengarten is always nice to visit. Sound good?"

"Sounds wonderful, Mr. Stetson." Amanda smiled. Lee bent his head down and their lips met in a kiss.

 **SMK SMK SMK SMK**

 **Monday, October 15, 2013**

 **Frankfurt Airport**

 **3:00 PM**

"We've just pulled into the airport, sweetheart." Amanda spoke into her cell phone. "Yes, we will. I'll call you again when we get home, okay? I love you. Your father sends his love too. Okay, talk to you later." She hung up the phone just as the taxi came to a stop at the curb.

"Who was that, Jenna?" Auggie asked.

Amanda nodded. "I was just touching base with her. It's really nice of you to see us off at the airport, Auggie."

"Really, it's no problem." Auggie paid the fare and lifted the suitcases out of the cab. "Besides, I owe you. If you hadn't come along when you did, I don't know where I'd be now." At that moment his cell phone gave three sharp beeps—taking it out of his pocket he looked down at it. "I can't stay too long, though—I have a little errand to run."

Lee took the suitcases from Auggie, placing them on a cart. "What is it—more restaurant business?"

"Pretty much," Auggie replied. "There's a new food distributor I've been hearing about lately—according to my sources, they're supposed to provide quality food at cut-rate prices."

"That sounds a little suspicious," Lee said. "Have you ever heard of these people before?"

"Well, no—not exactly." Auggie scratched his head. "But new distributors pop up all the time—might not hurt to check them out."

"Auggie," Amanda spoke warningly. "This is how you got in trouble this last time, remember?"

"Amanda, come on—it's not exactly the same thing," Auggie said. "I mean, what are the odds that these people are smugglers too, right? Anyway, sometimes you've gotta take risks in this business to pull in some profit. Right, Lee?"

"Don't 'right Lee' me," Lee's voice rose slightly. "And if you get in trouble again, we won't pull you out this time—you got me?"

"Hey, it's just a meeting? It couldn't—" Auggie's voice broke off as he saw the expression on Lee and Amanda's faces. He let out a sigh. "Yeah, you have a point—it sounds too good to be true, anyway. Think I'll cancel the meeting."

"Good idea." Amanda gave him a brief hug. "Take care, Auggie."

"You too—have a safe trip back to Arlington." Auggie waved to them as he hailed a taxi. Lee and Amanda stood, watching as he stepped into the cab and the car drove away.

"Think he'll be all right?" Amanda asked.

"Hopefully," Lee replied, giving his wife's hand a gentle squeeze. "Time will tell, though—it usually does. Come on, Mrs. Stetson—let's go back home."

 **The End**


End file.
